With Invisible Chains
by Nea's world
Summary: There are people who wander, and then there are wanderers. Drifting forever because of something they couldn't or wouldn't change... what happens when one finally gives in and tries to return home?
1. The Trials

Anyone and anywhere or situations you recognize belong to Tolkien. Everything/everyone else is mine (but I'll most likely let you borrow if you ask first).

Well, hope you all enjoy!

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_**Chapter 1: The Trials**_

"An absolutely pathetic lot, Legolas."

Legolas lifted a brow and looked out over the elves who were sparring to see if he could find any redemption among them. He winced and gave up when one tripped over his own feet and nearly impaled himself on a practice sword. "Thank the Valar we don't give them sharp blades."

Elowar snorted with laughter, but his humor was soon replaced with melancholy as moments nearly as bad abounded before them. He sighed wearily, lifting a hand to the back of his head, fisting the dark hair in an absent gesture of thought. "Not even sixty recruits, Legolas—and of those, _maybe_ a handful who already know enough to patrol."

"We always have to train them ourselves, Elowar. Why would it be any different when we actually _need_ more soldiers?"

Terine sighed. "It would be nice if it were, Legolas."

"Agreed." With a sigh of his own he dismounted, clapped on the back by Elleri once his feet were on the hard-packed ground.

"We found a few decent ones in the southern village—and Jarthey is chomping at the bit to get a hold of the rest."

Legolas snorted at the human phrase, wondering if Elleri had perhaps spent just a little too much time among the humans they traded with. Deciding to say nothing, he pulled his mind back to the topic at hand. "Isn't she always?" he asked dryly, still well able to remember his own training with the elder elf, long past though it was.

Elleri grinned, not as far past her training—and occasionally prone to the typical bouts of affection for her displayed by all who had looked back once the training was complete and understood how much she'd really done for them, harsh and uncompromising as she had always seemed at the time.

"How far along are the trials?" Jietere asked, riding up to the others with a few more recruits, all masked as the rest were.

"Not too far—just first elimination."

"Meaning we'll be here at least until dinner," Hathien murmured.

"That's the right attitude to have!" a cheerful voice burst out from the direction of the gates.

Hathien winced slightly, but a faint smile touched his lips. "Oh?" he asked, as soft footsteps announced her approach, even if most of them didn't feel more or less obligated to watch her arrive—still learning soldiers, next to her, for all their titles and centuries of service.

"Yeah… if you _never_ want to be a full captain," she added, crossing her arms over her chest as he turned slightly to acknowledge her.

Elleri laughed but Legolas just shook his head with a faint smile. "I didn't think you were going to come down to these anymore," he mused. "Too depressing, I believe you said? And that what, ten trials ago?"

She smiled enigmatically, flipping her long braid over her shoulder. "Your father asked me to see how things are. I believe he was sure you would gloss over things a bit when you report to him this evening."

"Whereas you couldn't gloss things over to save your life," he murmured back.

She chuckled—both at the tease and how much truth was behind it—and shrugged without a trace of elegance—or self-consciousness, for that matter. "Well, any way you look at it, I'm here… and I'm depressed." With a shake of her head she studied the eliminated soldiers. "All right, you sorry lot! Back to the hall for dinner!"

A few annoyed glances were her only response as the defeated elves gathered their meager things to do as bid.

"How many do you think will quit, Jar?"

She shrugged, toying with the slightly frazzled end of her braid with fingers that could never stay still. "I'd guess a few of them are already planning to leave. Hopefully most of them will wait until morning so I can stop them properly."

Each of the captains—all of whom had, of course, trained with her—had to smile, in varying degrees of ruefulness. Her initial speech each first day hadn't changed much through the centuries, but it still worked just as it had before—only as she aged, she became something more of a fixture in the King's service… which both made her a legend and not a little scary to the new recruits. It was a bit daunting even for the captains themselves—there were very few left in the military service of such age and years of experience. Most of the elder elves either moved on, settled down to have families, or became advisors to the captains and the King.

"You scare those who are _planning_ on staying in service, too, you know."

She laughed heartily and rested a calloused hand on Jietere's shoulder. "Keeps you interested, doesn't it?"

He snorted. "Oh, _sure_," he agreed, rolling his eyes behind her back.

"See any you like?" Legolas asked, leaning back against one of the posts, crossing his arms over his chest.

She chuckled, releasing the tortured braid to slide back behind her. "Your first pick, as it's your choice this time."

"Oh?" he lifted a brow.

She nodded, then inclined her head at one of the recruits waiting on the other end of the field. "That one."

He focused on the recruit, taking in the thinner form than most good warriors had, and would have dismissed him for that alone but for the slight shift that was made as he watched. The elf moved his weight from one leg to the other—a hand resting lightly, now, on the haft of a blade. Familiarly. The handle was well worn, and wrapped in strips of inexpertly tanned leather. He could see a hint of another blade ensconced in a well-hidden pocket on the elf's thigh, another sticking out of a worn boot. There was a wear pattern in the faded cloth covering each shoulder, indicating the lack of a quiver and perhaps another set of blades that were usually carried. "Over armed."

"Keep looking, lad."

He smiled faintly at her gentle rebuke and focused on the other elf once more. His eyes widened slightly when the obvious hit him. "Not from Mirkwood."

"Or at least, not clothed from Mirkwood."

He inclined his head shortly. "Then I shall indeed choose him," he agreed, eyes narrowing.

Jarthey smiled faintly, watching the being in contentment. "Now, let us see him fight," she murmured, when one of the group leaders running the trials motioned for him to come forward.

The elf straightened a bit, a worn glove lifting to tighten the edges of the masking hood the recruits wore until the final trials were fought—then those who made it into the last pairings were separated out by the captains to immediately join the patrols.

Last time they had only three join in that way, the time before a more acceptable dozen. Legolas had been the only captain lacking a new member the previous round, so he had first choice in this one.

"Wow."

Legolas snorted at Elleri's comment after the very brief match. "Eloquent as ever."

Elleri glared at him for a quick moment, a faint smile quirking his lips. "But… wow." He ran a hand through his gold hair, watching the elf that had been defeated so succinctly in some sympathy as he struggled back onto his feet without an offered hand, one arm clasped painfully over his middle. "It… that…"

"Wow?" Legolas suggested dryly.

"I think that looked how I felt it must have that time you decided to remind me I hadn't learned much of anything yet."

Legolas chuckled softly at the memory and affectionately nudged Elleri's shoulder with his own. "You needed to be put in your place."

"Yes," Elleri agreed at once, fully sober as his bright eyes sought Legolas's darker ones. "That lesson most probably saved my life."

Legolas snorted. "Hardly, Elleri."

"I don't doubt it. I had in mind to join your patrol… and I was far from ready. If I had snuck out that night, Legolas… I probably wouldn't have come back."

Legolas's eyes darkened fractionally as he recalled the night Elleri meant. One of the others hadn't come back. Of those who did—a thankfully large number—_none_ had done so uninjured. It was only the deep trust won through time and their hard-earned skill that had allowed them to return at all. He shook his head slightly and rested a hand on Elleri's shoulder. "You were still upset."

Elleri sighed, glancing down. He snorted after a while. "It _still_ hurts."

"You loved her."

"And I always shall. I just wish I knew…"

Legolas's fingers tightened along with his lips against several caustic replies. "You may never know. Any of it."

"Why, how, why…"

Legolas smiled faintly and nodded once.

Elleri sighed, down enough from his usual high spirits that Jarthey felt compelled to join them once more. "Younger brother depression, young prince?" she asked.

He managed a slight smile for her. "No. Just simple depression."

"Anything that isn't simple enough to joke about isn't simple," she observed.

He gave her a wry smile, but didn't answer.

She had been around far too long not to understand, and found him a distraction he could use as the elf she was most interested in was up for the second round of elimination. It was concluded just as swiftly as the first—this elf had no equal among these recruits. There were a few who might give a little more work than the last two, but none to give a true challenge.

Legolas had just come to the same conclusion. "You!" he called.

The masked head snapped up.

"You will report at the gates at dusk tomorrow."

"Making your choice already, Legolas?" Terine asked, lifting a brow.

"Why not?" he murmured. "It doesn't look there will be many to choose from—let Elleri choose a second for me if there are enough."

"Sure, Legolas," Elleri murmured with a nod. "I'd love to stand around here doing your work while you go eat. After all, I didn't eat lunch either."

Legolas chuckled at the dry manner in which his brother made his displeasure known. "And you have waybread in your pocket, as you _always_ do, if you're so hungry. You asked for this, little brother."

Elleri rolled his eyes. "You going to have him unmask before you run off to Father?"

"Of course," Legolas half-grinned, a brow lifted as he turned back to the new recruit. The smiled faded. "You've been chosen. Off with the mask."

With a barely audible sigh the wooden sword was tossed at the heap of other discarded practice weapons. With a quick and practiced move the mask and hood fell down at the same time.

Legolas blinked.

"Well…" Elleri blinked as well. "You… you have permission?"

"Of course," the elf snapped, sparing him a quick glance. Then the dark grey eyes ran through Legolas. A muscle twitched in her jaw. "Will I need anything for duty besides my weapons?"

"Something for food and water will be provided if you don't—"

"I very well do," she replied quickly, pulling the hood back up over her black hair. She inclined her head curtly and turned to the mountain, a shrill bird-call rousing one of the slumbering horses. The black creature cantered over, accepting her weight quickly, with old familiarity. In very short order she was out of sight.

Elowar was the first to regain his tongue. "Well… That's a first in… how long, Jarthey?"

"She's the first in nearly two thousand years. Don't underestimate her for it, boys."

"After being trained by you?" Hathien muttered dryly.

"Not to mention that rather impressive display just a few moments ago," Terine added. "If it wasn't your choice, I would have taken her as mine."

"You might want to watch your wording, Terine," Legolas murmured dryly. The captains snorted softly and, for the most part, turned their attention back to the trials.

"Something bothering you, Prince?"

Legolas glanced up at her, and tilted his head, consciously trying to relax… or at least _appear_ relaxed. "She has a chip on her shoulder."

"One the size of the mountains," Jarthey agreed. "But she is a good fighter."

"That's hardly everything that makes a good soldier."

"True," she agreed, smiling slightly. "But it helps."

He would have given her an annoyed or exasperated look, but, since it was her, he studied her eyes for a long moment. Slowly he shook his head. "Will I ever understand?"

She almost smiled, something easing in her eyes. "If you keep trying to learn."


	2. The Dwarf

Alright, sorry this took so long. This week has been rather... odd. Add in that I couldn't get quick-edit to work for quite a while... Or maybe it was just my internet connection. Either way, I've needed much more than the time I've had to fight with the computer (whatever evils possessed it) and get this up. That said, I'll try and get the next Trial by Fire chapter up within the next few days.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Autumn-Crystal: Ashes is the main mystery in the story, so I won't answer much about her. Despite the name Terine is male. The only female captain is Jarthey. She's the trainershe trains every elf who goes through the halls, except those rare ones who already know all she can tell them. If you were meaning to ask about her, well: she's been in the service nearly all of Legolas's life, and is the only female to ever become a captain. Females in the service are rare, so that is enough to set her apart (up until Ashes, anyway.). She has trained Legolas beyond weapons. Jarthey is a big studier of body language. She trained Legolas to notice little things, to watch his own body language more carefully. You should be able to really see that in this chapter. And I love getting questionsshows me how well I have or haven't done in getting across what I thought I did.

SilverRaiine: Nope, no slash. I don't think I could write slash. Nothing against slash, some is very nicely written, I just don't think I could write it. I did reread it and I can see where you got that impression, though. ;-)

LJP: Well, it would really depend. And Legolas will no doubt understand eventually...

Animir: Hope this one goes better!

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Chapter 2 **__**The Dwarf**_

"All right, you lot!"

The elves straightened, drawing tenser as the captain walked in. Several blinked and a few snickered.

"Silence!"

The bellow overpowered the snickers. More were looking vaguely nervous than derisive as the echoes of the commanding voice died down.

"Now. I have trained every soldier to serve the King in the last nineteen hundred years." There was a long pause as this information sunk in.

Several were shaking their heads slightly, trying to keep it from sounding like truth. It couldn't be. It just… _couldn't_. The elf they had heard of, the famous trainer, The Dwarf… _couldn't_ be the petite female before them.

"Most of you probably heard of me as 'the dwarf'," she continued, hardly oblivious to the thoughts running through their heads. "When you speak to me, you _will_ call me _Captain_, unless you should manage to survive long enough to become a Captain yourself—highly unlikely, as you are the sloppiest lot I've seen in centuries."

She paced slowly over to the practice targets, and turned sharply to study them with a hint of steel in her eyes—enough to reinforce what all the recruits knew to expect from The Dwarf. Uncertain, confused, their defenses were for the most part unstable if at all in tact.

"Now. If any of you have decided, in the last hours, that you can't hack being in the King's service, the door is behind you." She waited for a long moment, and then nodded when no one left. "In that case, I want to see how poor you all are at archery. Break up four to a target. Switch to a different target or get a fresh score of arrows if you have a set similar to anyone else at your target."

The elves slowly began the usual scramble for place and arrows when they realized they _all_ had similar arrows—as they were mostly homemade.

"You sent for me?" a voice came from the door, gathering quite a bit of attention.

"Yes. Your style has some hints of Mirkwood to it."

"It should, Dwarf," the other murmured, walking in languidly, with the easy, unassuming grace of one who spends a lot of time moving untiringly across long distances. "I watched you training others for many years."

Jarthey tossed her long braid over her shoulder and studied the younger elf for a long moment. "I wanted to test you before allowing you to join the prince's patrol."

The elf smiled faintly, ironically, but inclined her head, pushing her black hood back. "Choice?"

"Your lead," she answered.

"Now?"

"Of course."

With a faint nod the dark-haired elf drew a long, curved blade. "Swords, then."

"As you wish." Jarthey chose a familiar blade from those along the wall. She glanced at the recruits, and lifted a brow, but swung her blade out quickly.

It was countered long before she would have worried, were the blade not turned so it would merely bruise, rather than cut. The swiftness made her lift a brow, and relax the tenseness she usually had when confronting an unknown opponent that she didn't intend to kill.

The other elf nodded at the change, a slight narrowing at the corner of her dark eyes indicating a smile though nothing else did.

Jarthey had been intending to analyze her style, having recognized bits and pieces of it, thanks to Thranduil's spy on the fighting styles of the other lands, but soon found herself at a grand disadvantage as she always did when faced with someone with a style far different than those she was somewhat used to. She inclined her head shortly, and the other female stepped back. When she felt she had regained her balance, she spoke one of the observations she had made. "You are not formally taught."

"Not formally, no."

"Name?"

"Ashes."

Jarthey lifted a brow. "Truly."

A raven brow lifted. "It is what I have been called for more time than not."

"Ashes, then," she agreed at last, when it was clear there was nothing she could say that would garner her a different response. "You are more than proficient."

"I would hope so," she snorted. "Otherwise I wouldn't be here." She sheathed the sword and resettled her cloak. "Have I passed, Dwarf?"

"That's Captain, deary."

A faint smile touched Ashes's lips as she inclined her head. "Captain?" she murmured, pausing on her way from the large cavern.

"Hmm?"

"Have things changed so drastically in the last years?"

"What things?"

"You knew how to counter the techniques most commonly used in Imladris and Lothlorien. When I left, the Wood was not all that friendly to other realms."

"It still isn't."

The dark eyes shuttered a bit, and she reached up, snapping her hood over her head as she turned to leave.

"Ashes, was it?" he asked, pausing her obvious retreat. "You did not finish your inquiry."

"Does it matter?" she turned, and Jarthey saw something rarely seen—the Crowned Prince of Mirkwood _faltered_ under someone's gaze… other than his father's. Of course, even Thranduil hadn't managed it often in centuries, and never without extreme effort.

He recovered enough to frown within instants, and only one accustomed to watching body language would have noticed the moment at all. "It was an interesting question."

She snorted. "Interesting or not, I intend to leave it be, for the moment." She turned away from him, inclining her head to Jarthey. "Captain." She couldn't very well leave things as they were, so she turned to Legolas. "Prince." A slight incline of her head, and she left with a soft snap of her cloak as it flared out behind her.

"Is it just me, Jar, or does she not like me?"

Jarthey shrugged. "Spoken with your patrol?"

"As if I needed to. They all knew before I could find them, of course. They have just about shown _too much_ interest in her."

"Too much, Legolas?"

"She's a soldier, Jar. They can't forget that."

Jarthey laughed, putting the sword away. "She won't let them, Legolas. Don't worry about history repeating itself."

He looked at her for a long moment, but pulled back his words and inclined his head to her instead, turning his attention to the new recruits. "Want help?"

"Of course," she smiled, tossing him the bow in her left hand as she checked the string of the one in her right.

Legolas strung his practice bow quickly, grabbing a score of arrows. He caught a glimpse of a familiar cloak out of the corner of his eyes and whistled a short note. "Come help."

Elleri sighed, but left the shadows, picking up a bow. "You couldn't give me a morning off?"

"Hardly. Should you ever make it through your training, you won't have a morning off."

Elleri rolled his eyes. "Then maybe I'll just give up on being a captain," he grumbled.

Legolas hid his smile by turning to the elves once more. Swiftly he and Jarthey separated them into groups based on competency. Still, it was with a decided air of impatience that he met his patrol for their turn at the weekly spider-search along the edges of where all non-hunting elves traveled. Sometimes they would press a bit farther, but that was far from likely tonight.

His group took one look at him, and he saw a few winces. "Are they that bad?" one called.

He snorted and whistled for his horse to join the others, checking them quickly. He sighed. "I take it our new member hasn't seen fit to join us yet?"

"Hold your accusations, Prince," a tart voice called from the forest. A black horse melted out of the dark wood, his equally darkly cloaked rider sitting with familiar ease.

He studied her for a moment, and mounted. "Good. Ashes, group, group, Ashes." He looked at her. "You can get to know them better over meals. We have no time now."

"The weekly spider-search?" she asked.

A sharp glance made her lift a dark brow in the dying light.

"I've been away, not _dead_."

He heard a snort of muffled laughter and glared behind himself to silence it. "Yes," he agreed shortly.

Thanks to the quieter mood of the patrol, the round was completed well before dawn—which was rather unusual, and got a surprised glance from the elves preparing the great hall for breakfast. Still, they soon had a meal in front of them in the side room given over to their group meals. Once done eating, Legolas leaned back, closing his eyes, trying to release the tension he always gathered in terrible quantities at the time of the trials. Thank the Valar they were only held every ninth spring.

"So… Ashes?"

"Yes?" she replied quietly.

Legolas cracked an eye open as his usually boisterous group remained practically silent and looked quite uncomfortable. Still, there were enough of them that they soon gathered their wits to continue their questioning.

"Why'd you decide to join the Service?"

She tilted her head, the light catching on her face beneath the hood before she finally pushed it back, allowing the rest of the group to study her previously practically unseen features. "I've been on my own for centuries in places darker than the Wood. I expected I would find it rather dull to try and settle down any more quickly than I did."

"You enjoy the dark?" Ferien asked in shock.

She smiled faintly—the barest quirk of the left side of her mouth. "The dark is merely what we make of it."

"Is that a yes?"

She laughed softly, but shook her head. "No elf could _enjoy_ the dark and yet be an elf. I enjoy being… _challenged_, I suppose you could say, and testing my own strengths."

"Your father is fine with this?" Legolas asked, unable to remain silent any longer.

"I told your brother I had permission," she answered crossly, her eyes chilling as they met his.

"You didn't answer my question."

"My father, Prince, has been dead many long centuries. But _your_ father is, indeed, quite fine with this."

He narrowed his eyes as she got to her feet. "Going somewhere?"

"I have traveled among humans, yes, but I do not share their disinclination towards bathing. Perhaps the daily routine has changed—when I left the patrol with spider-duty was given the following day off for rest."

After a long moment he shook his head. "It hasn't changed."

"Good."

He paused her when she was almost out the door. "Where are you sleeping?"

"In my room, Prince. Where else?"

"Which is where?"

"I don't want visitors," she snapped.

"I wasn't inviting myself," he snarled back. He took a moment to control his tone and consciously relax the muscles of his shoulders. "But as your Captain, I need to know where you are. Unless you want to actually stick out a meal with us once in a while to know the next day's plans?" He wondered how she got under his skin so easily. He hadn't sneered at anyone in years. It was a little-used training tactic he hadn't needed to control the elves under his command—his title was usually more than enough to see to it that they obeyed him. Throw in his greater experience in the Service, and he'd never had a real problem.

He hadn't been trained by Jarthey—beyond her normal training—for nothing. Her eyes narrowed in the reflection he could see in a corner of the over-shined picture frame, despite her having turned to leave once more. Then a thoughtful determination settled over her features before being wiped clean. "Dinner is in here, or the great hall?"

"It's um… the great hall, tonight," Ferien murmured hesitantly when it was clear his Captain wasn't going to respond.

She nodded once and swept out.

He snorted at the way her cloak flared so dramatically. With a shake of his head he reached for his goblet, sipping the juice as the soldiers around him began talking about Ashes. At a particularly graphic comment, he leaned back and lifted a brow. Slowly they all fell silent. He nodded once—they, at least, knew he was their Captain, and that the title commanded respect. "She is one of the King's soldiers, now. If you do not act accordingly, you will be reassigned."

"But… She…"

"Will be given the respect and courtesy due any other new recruit."

A few wry smiles appeared at that, each remembering their own first days. She had already done the unprecedented—snapped at the Captain. He would have to talk to her about that if it continued.

For now, though…

He made his way through the halls, and had just about knocked for entrance to his father's study when the door opened, a black cloaked figure sliding out. Dark grey eyes looked up at him, a sable brow lifting for an instant. Then her face cleared of any emotion and she inclined her head slightly before sweeping past.

He blinked after her and belatedly completed his knock.

"Well, come on in, Legolas."

He tilted his head after her. "What was she after, Da?"

"That is between me and her, isn't it?"

Legolas folded himself in his typical chair, and found himself a bit uncomfortable at the warmth it already had. "You aren't usually so evasive," he complained after a moment.

Thranduil's sapphire eyes had noted many things. "And you aren't usually so put out by a new soldier."

"I am always put out by such an irately disrespectful attitude."

Thranduil lifted a brow. "I find that difficult to believe," he murmured, though there was an edge of amusement there that caught Legolas's ear, making him frown.

"No you don't. Why?"

Thranduil chuckled. "She has been independent and self-sufficient for centuries, son. It will take her time to accept being ruled—and you shall have to earn her respect… which is not really a bad thing. To always be given unconditional respect can give one an over estimation of himself."

"Speaking of me, or yourself?" Legolas responded dryly.

Thranduil chuckled and sat back in his chair, studying his son. "How does she handle herself on the field?"

"Jarthey conceded… but only because she is a bit set in her ways, and doesn't think on her feet as well as she could. She has, after all, been doing nothing but training for a very long time."

"Yes."

Legolas gazed into the fireplace. "She has aspects of swordplay from Imladris, and akin to those travelers and messengers from Lothlorien that I have met. There are other styles she uses as well, with which I am unfamiliar."

"Then she is a good addition to your patrol."

"Perhaps…" Legolas frowned.

"What is it?"

He shook himself slightly and looked up at his father. "You know her?"

"I did once," Thranduil answered slowly.

After a moment, Legolas sighed. "Do you trust her?"

"I no longer know her, my son."


	3. Long since forgotten

Well, thanks to Idhrenniel for admitting that the last chapter was read.

Hope you enjoy this chapter, too.

If anyone else would care for future chapters, please let me know you're reading!

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**_Chapter 3 Long since forgotten_**

Ashes closed her eyes and let her head rest against the stone at her back. It was all so _familiar_… and yet, nothing was. Everyone she had known had changed. Some subtly, some quite dramatically… at least, from what she could tell at the moment. Three days back was not much, considering the centuries she'd been away.

When she opened her eyes, there was another elf in the small garden she'd escaped to. He was her height, with light blond hair and eyes the color of the sky after a violent storm… but momentarily less bright than normal. He was looking at the small stone bench that was sheltered in a crook of rock, looking at it with a wistful longing that made her eyes close for a long moment more.

He stretched out his hand and dropped a bunch of flowers to the seat, looking at them silently.

She studied those flowers—they were considered the most beautiful of the flowers the gardens of Mirkwood could produce, but she had long since forgotten their name. Bright white and fully formed with layer after layer of petals, she found them rather annoying. They were too full and ornate for her to consider them beautiful.

A sudden intake of breath snapped her eyes up to the bright blue ones now focusing on her. His ears flushed a little, and he shifted his weight back a bit self-consciously.

"I didn't mean to intrude," she offered, turning her gaze to the side.

He moved a bit closer, shielding the flowers from view with his body. "Few have ever come here. How did you find it?"

"Wandering," she answered truthfully. "I have the entire day in which to do so."

He inclined his head after a moment. "Most of your patrol is still resting."

"Most of my patrol drank quite heavily at breakfast," she retorted dryly.

With a tilt of his head he began walking. "To steady their nerves, perhaps?" he asked, looking slightly over his shoulder.

She joined him in his meanderings. "There was nothing in the night to shake them."

He smiled swiftly and glanced at her. "Where _do_ you come from?"

"Everywhere and no where," she murmured after a long enough moment he'd begun to believe she wouldn't answer at all. "I have no home, and no home has me. Loyalties to Mirkwood were engrained in me at an early age, though."

"And so you returned?"

"And so I returned," she agreed softly, glancing into rooms that were open as they passed.

"What did you do, while not here?"

She laughed softly. "While not here," she teased softly, "I did very little, really. Spent some time in most every bit of forest the known world offers… and even some in the unknown world. I have dwelled among all peoples who are yet living that you could name—even the dwarves, for a time."

"Why on middle-earth would you want to do that?"

She laughed brightly, remembering that time. She answered in a dwarven tongue, which made him frown, his brow crinkling as he tried to remember his lessons from very long ago.

"My… _friends_ were there?" he asked after a long moment. "Is that what you said?"

"It is indeed," she agreed, closing her eyes as they walked. "You should brush up on that."

"It's hardly a language skill I've needed," he responded dryly. "You…"

"Hmm?"

"You fight with many styles."

"I've been many places."

"Yes…"

"But?"

He smiled ruefully. "But Jarthey said you had not had formal training."

"I haven't… not really."

"Then in what manner did you learn?"

She grimaced. "Practice."

He frowned. "Practice?"

"Practice. As in I often came across fighters from other lands who didn't like a cloaked stranger wandering through unchallenged. While they would not have killed me without a reason of some sort, they had no qualms about trying to show me they could kill me, easily, if I didn't cooperate." She shrugged slightly, and motioned at the split in the hall.

He tilted his head, guiding them down the left branch of the corridor. "So you have fought many warriors."

"Yes."

"Of Imladris, Lothlorien…"

"Gondor, Rohan, Moria, and many you'll not have heard of."

"And you stayed there, for a time?"

"I've been a wanderer—even if I consider a place my… _camp_ for a time, it is a very brief time—even by mortal standards. A few months, _maybe_ a year or two at the absolute most. Then I move on."

"You must have quickly run out of places to be."

"I often returned to different areas, though the cities and dwellings of others I tended to edge around, for the most part."

"Why?"

"Why not?" She glanced up at him. "If you spend most of your encounters with other beings being attacked and surviving only on the skills you learned from previous fights, you would be a bit wary about going near other people."

"But once you proved that you weren't hostile, surely they would have accepted you?"

"Some," she agreed, thinking of her few friends. "And I did sometimes wander through for supplies. I hardly had the patience to weave my clothing," she added dryly.

"And new blades, new arrows—"

"I make my own arrows. I do have to trade for the tips, though. Fashioning them from stone is a tedious art I long ago gave up on. A few hours of chipping and being cut by flying bits of sharp rock, only to have it break within one or two uses…" she shook her head. "At least metal tips I can reuse. Usually until I lose them, actually. Which doesn't happen often."

"But…"

"What?"

He was frowning again. "Why not just _stay_ somewhere? Why wonder endlessly?"

"Because I wanted to wander, Elleri. I wanted to see what could be seen, do what could be done. I have traveled the wilds of middle-earth, met her people, explored her peaks and her depths…"

"But why not stop somewhere for a while? Surely there were many very beautiful and glorious places that you found?"

She nodded. "Those filled with light of the stars, flowers of names unknown, caverns that glitter as if embedded with the Valar's light, forests old and filled with magic, or new and filled with hope. Dwellings wrought from stone that climbs to the sky or little homes cut into the earth. Yes… An elf could be happy in many places on this land, young prince."

"Then… _why_?"

"You would not leave?"

He frowned at her, paused in the middle of the hall. "What?"

"You would not leave this place? This cavern cut from stone?"

"It… it is my home."

"Yes," she agreed softly. "And as much as I have ever had one," she sighed, "it is mine. At the end of my day as my eyes are closed against the sun or my campfire, or open to barren cliff walls, the darkness gives way instead to the faint elven light that lights the halls, the trees. I have wandered the world upon waking, but always wandered here in my dreams."

He bit his lip. "Then why leave at all?"

"Because I wanted to wander," she repeated.

"But _why?_"

"When you can answer that, you will know all about me and every other being who leaves home for no reason other than to see what might be beyond the next hill, the next stand of trees." She smiled, a faintly bitter touch to it that made his frown deepen. "All who wander know why, of course, but will never tell."

"Why?"

"Because you do not need to know," she answered simply. "No more today, Elleri. I am weary of questions."

"What of an unrelated one?"

She lifted a brow and glanced at him. "Perhaps."

He grinned. "Good. Why don't you get on with Legolas? You're fine with Jarthey, and with me… but not with your own Captain."

"Legolas is arrogant."

"He is the prince."

"You are as well. Besides, prince and arrogant are _not_ mutually inclusive titles."

"You are prideful, if he is arrogant."

She stopped and stared up at him, then sharply turned her head to begin walking once more. "No."

"Aren't you? You and Legolas have already ignited an interesting flurry of gossip."

She snorted. "Pride is the downfall of many elves—but it has been a long time since it was mine." Her eyes darkened slightly and she shook her head. "That really is the last you shall ask me for a while, Elleri."

"Ah, but I have many more. Such as why call me Elleri, and Legolas prince?"

"Your name is Elleri, and it fits you well. He has made himself fit the title. I suspect he prefers me calling him prince over Legolas."

"Perhaps," Elleri allowed, and motioned at the hall to their right. "That will—"

"Take me back to the great hall," she murmured. "I know."

He tilted his head, watching her leave. Her cloak did flow out behind her a bit, but not with the flare Legolas had described. After a moment he shook his head and continued down his path, turning automatically until he was within the garden he had sought.

"I was wondering if you would ever get here."

He shook his head with a smile and dropped down beside Verine. "I was having a confusing conversation with a rather interesting elf."

Legolas groaned. "You didn't?"

"I didn't. She was in the garden."

Legolas looked sharply at him. "What?"

Elleri shrugged. "She found it."

"It is hardly on the common path," Legolas frowned.

"No. But she has wandered the world, Legolas. I don't think the halls will hold her for long."

"As long as she is in Father's service, they must."

Elleri tilted his head, considering that, then chuckled softly and shook his head. "Good luck, Legolas."


	4. Mother hen

Okay, so people are reading. A new chapter for you, then. ;-) Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

K'lara 7: Nope, they haven't (save Tolkien's, of course) been in any other stories of mine. Well, any other posted stories of mine. I keep starting stories that fizzle out with Elleri, with Verine. They made it online this time, though.

LJP: I am quite curious to know how you decided she's either their mother or an elder sister.Would you tell me?

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_**Chapter4 Mother hen**_

"Are you all right?" a slightly concerned voice asked.

Legolas made a noncommittal murmur and lifted a hand to his brow, closing his eyes, trying to block out the light.

"Oh no," a different voice murmured. "Not again, surely?"

He sighed in way of answer and tried to rub the tension from his temples. Hands batted at his own, replacing them. "Verine," he protested quietly.

"Oh, shush. It's obvious you can't do it yourself—if you could, you wouldn't do _this_ every time," she murmured, her tones distinctly scolding. She sounded like the mother-hen she had become at a very early age.

"At least it's only every nine years," another feminine voice piped in.

Verine nodded, but frowned. "Yes, that's true enough. But the trials haven't always bothered him so."

"I haven't always been a captain," he returned, dryly.

"No…" She trailed off hesitantly. With a frown she moved behind him, encouraging him by a nudge from her knee to sit up properly as she knelt behind him, her cool fingers working under his collar, rubbing at the stiff muscles of shoulder and neck. "But it has been a long, long time…"

"Thanks," he muttered.

She rolled her eyes and most likely would have smacked him, if she wasn't trying to get him to relax. "Morsallien," she murmured, frowning. "Do you remember when this started?"

The younger elf shook her head, golden hair shimmering around her. "No. But I don't think he was a captain then."

"Neither did I," Verine murmured, her frown thoughtful.

"What's that to do with anything?" Rithil asked, frowning.

"Perhaps nothing," Verine replied, doing her best not to frown back at the lady. "But perhaps something more than he would allow us to believe."

"Verine," he growled, before giving up his annoyance as the pain bashing in his head began to ease. He wouldn't say or do anything that might make her stop at this point. He let out a low moan and let his head fall back onto her shoulder.

She laughed lightly and kissed his temple, moving her fingers up his neck. Then her sapphire eyes narrowed slightly in thought. "Is it just the trials that trouble you, Legolas?"

"What else would it be?"

"It bothers no other as it bothers you."

He sighed and moved one shoulder faintly in a weak shrug. Weak only because she was slowly turning his muscles to mush, rather than anything to do with his determination. "I am the crowned prince, and it falls on me to be sure they are truly fit for service."

"What, Jarthey isn't enough to deal with that?"

Verine sighed and glared at the intruder as the muscles under her fingers tensed horribly at the new voice, distinctive in its naturally low, rich tones. "Did you have to do that?"

"No. I suppose I could have gone on by and let him continue to delude himself."

Verine lifted a silvery-gold brow and looked at the elf. Dark hair, dark clothes… "You must be Ashes."

A wry quirk of her mouth confirmed it. "How'd you guess?" she drawled, dark humor hinted at in her dark grey eyes.

"You're the only one who wanders around in all black."

"Dark green mostly," Ashes countered, glancing up into the tree branches. She crouched and sprang up, twisting out of sight with very little sound. A moment later she reappeared quite a ways from the ground, hanging upside-down from a branch by one leg, her hands clasped behind her head. She looked around for a moment, studying each elf before her eyes landed and fixed on Legolas. "You didn't answer, Prince."

"Jarthey is 'Captain' to you," he began.

"When in her presence," she countered absently, unconcerned that she had interrupted him. She moved slightly on the branch, swinging her free leg slowly, her balance perfect and her movements totally at ease.

"And she is very good at training them up to patrol standards, but each must be farther trained in many areas," Legolas continued, acknowledging the interruption only by the narrowing of his eyes.

"There is a vast difference between competence and excellence. Thranduil _needs_ both. She gives competence and it is up to each patrol captain to train for excellence. It does not fall to _you_ to run the whole bloody army."

"You speak of Father rather familiarly."

"I have known his name since I was able to speak. Why should I not use it?" she retorted, loosening her grip on the branch, twisting on the way down to crouch lightly on her feet, facing them. "Princesses," she inclined her head. She looked at Rithil. "Lady," she tilted her head slightly. Lifting a brow she looked at Legolas again. "Prince." With the faintest of smirks she inclined her head and turned to leave.

"Ashes?"

"Yes, Verine?" she asked softly, paused almost to the garden's exit.

"Have you other clothing?"

"A single set."

"I shall see that you are properly fitted this evening."

"Two sets of clothing have sufficed for centuries. Do not trouble yourself for me." Ashes started to walk away once more.

"It is far from troubling," Verine murmured, her voice making Ashes pause once again. "And it is exceedingly practical. All patrol members led by Captains of the halls live within the halls—their clothing is washed by the laundresses. Two sets will not last you very well here, as it is only collected twice a week."

"And returned once," Ashes sighed, lifting a hand to her temple as she dealt with the memory and the problem of old habits that didn't fit in with her own. "Very well. Where shall we meet?"

"After dinner if you would go to the entrance hall, I can guide you from there."

"As you wish," Ashes inclined her head slightly. "Good day, princess."

"And to you… must you go by Ashes?"

A wry smile touched her lips. "Indeed I must." One last time she inclined her head before leaving just as silently as she entered.

Verine frowned slightly, and looked at her elder brother. "Legolas?"

"Hmm?"

"How does she know so much of the halls?"

"She was once from Mirkwood, Verine. She remembers much."

Rithil sniffed delicately. "Part of the working class, no doubt."

Verine rolled her dark sapphire eyes and caught her younger sister's brighter blue ones. Morsallien was just as thrilled with Legolas's most recent companion, and nodded slightly in silent sympathy with her elder sister. "You'll excuse us, Rithil," she murmured. "But Verine and I were going to spend some quiet time in our garden." She got up and smiled blithely, bending to kiss Legolas's cheek. "See you at dinner, I imagine," she murmured.

He lifted a brow, knowing full well the excuse to leave was simply that. "I suppose so," he agreed, tugging a golden lock before letting her go uncontested.

She smiled and nodded, then practically skipped to the door. Verine smiled indulgently after her, kissing Legolas's cheek as she passed. "Try not to get so tense anymore, Legolas." She frowned at his snort but quickly joined her sister. "What does he see in her?" she asked darkly under her breath once they were a fair distance down the corridor.

"I'm guessing it's not her politeness," Morsallien almost growled, a scowl twisting her features.

Verine laughed, her own dark mood evaporating with her humor. "Mor, leave the snarling to our brothers. Their faces are far better suited for it."

Morsallien snorted a bit of laughter, and shook her head. "You know me," she murmured, shrugging.

With another laugh Verine nodded. "Yes. So you may as well stop pretending," she murmured, affecting the scolding tone she used with such effect on their brothers. She laughed playfully as Morsallien rolled her eyes.

Morsallien's disgust for the elf left behind with their elder brother faded to worry. "Why does he do this?"

Verine shook her head. "I don't know, dear sister. I really don't."

"Whatever does he expect to find in them?"

Verine remained silent, her eyes bleak as she tried to think up a good solution.

"He obviously hasn't found it yet. Why does he think another elf nearly identical to the one he just gave up on will be any different?"

When Morsallien opened her mouth with yet another breath, Verine held up her hand. "Morsallien, do leave him be. He doesn't know the answers himself, even if he's bothered to ask the questions."

"But…"

Verine shook her head. "No, my dear sister. You must let him be. He is old enough to make his own mistakes."

"At what point is he too old to be making so many such disastrous mistakes?" Morsallien asked, looking curiously at Verine as they walked together into her room. Morsallien closed the door and crossed to the large bed, lounging on it.

Verine sighed, shaking her head as she picked up a book at the foot of the bed, smoothing the covers a bit before sitting, her back to the post. "We'll know that when he figures it out himself, Mor, and not before."

"No matter how much we want it to be different?"

"No matter how we think, how Elleri or Ada think, or even how he feels—it has always been up to him, and always will be."

"So as long as he wants to slowly go through every lady in the hall, we have to be silent?"

"What else can we do? He searches for something."

"But what?"

Verine shook her head slightly, having no sure answer, and no speculations she would air, even here, alone in her room with her sister.


	5. Oil and lots of water

I've apparently been a bit too subtle here with the relationships between the elves. Ashes is currently going to remain a mystery, because she's one to all of them (save Thranduil). Thranduil has four children. Legolas is the eldest, followed by Elleri, Verine, and Morsallien. Rithil is Legolas's current _companion_. Bluntly, his lover. The four siblings are fairly close, though the they are each closer to the sibling within their own gender, and Legolas--though he loves them--is not as close to them as they are to each other. He's quite a bit older, and has had many more responsibilities to deal with.

Hopefully that clears up some confusion.

Thanks to those who reviewed!

LJP: I think you are getting your fics a bit mixed up. Legolas was surprised when she removed her hood and mask, but only because she was (then) obviously female, and females don't often try to join the service. He doesn't recognize her. Thranduil knows who she _was_, but not so much who she now _is._ I don't know if that's helped or been more confusing. I'll try to answer future questions without giving things away, though.

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_**Chapter 5 Oil and lots of water**_

Blinking a few times cleared the last remnants of dreams from his eyes and brought him back to the world around him, illuminated only by the fire in the stone circle and what light the elves could bring to the deep dark of the wood. Part of him loved these in depth patrols, and wished they happened more often. Three times a year was simply not enough, to his mind.

Of course, most would be deterred by the reason behind the trips… but he'd killed his first spider over two thousand years ago, by himself. Alone. It had been a very shaky experience, though, and had prompted him to learn more about fighting. Quickly. He hadn't really ever stopped trying to learn, never wanting to be that close to death for lack of skill again.

He pulled his shoulders a little closer to his head, hearing a few pops down his spine even before he arched his back slightly to help ease some of the stiffness that came from taking rest against a tree. With a quick shake of his head he stretched his arms out and as high as he could, then reached behind himself and pulled his hair from where it clung to his neck beneath his collar and in the bark of the tree he'd been slouched against.

Deciding as Captain he should at least look around, he glanced at the fire, and instantly frowned. There were three other elves around the fire—one keeping watch, leaning lazily against a tree, the second gazing blankly into the flames, and the last one stretched out on his back, hands folded idly over his chest in dreams, glassy eyes gazing at the hidden black night.

So where were the other thirteen?

He looked back at the one who was supposed to be on watch. "Ferien."

The young soldier looked up at the soft call. "Yes, Captain?" he asked, shifting his weight slightly away from the tree so he was standing on his own.

"Where has everyone gone?" he asked, voice having gone low with his suspicion something wasn't quite right. Well, it was more than a suspicion, really, since if things were _right_ his elves would be around the fire. _Maybe_ one or two gone to answer to the needs of the body, but not usually even one.

Ferien glanced away, then at his worn leather boots, his ears starting to darken as he uncomfortably cleared his throat. "Um… to the river…"

Lifting a brow at the unusual way that information was delivered, he got to his feet and began walking to the river with only the slightest nod to Ferien accepting that he'd heard the words he'd just been so uncertainly given. Within twenty feet of the bank he found his patrol. All of them were on their hands and knees if not flat on their bellies, crouching behind and in some cases beneath the bushes that grew thickly up to a foot from the bank.

He lifted a brow and crossed his arms over his chest. "What—"

The question was cut off rather rudely as one of the nearest elves jumped up and slapped a hand over his mouth. He glared dangerously and snapped his head away from the confining hand impatiently.

One of the elves laid a finger over his lips and tilted his head off towards the river before resuming his position among the bushes.

Thinking they had found a spider nest or something else that required stealth and silence, he crouched down and eased himself forward. His eyes widened and his breath stilled at what he saw.

Moon-lit curves.

Ebony silk.

Lovingly clinging water.

A few faint scars giving evidence to the experience he had already known she had in numerous dangerous fights.

An instant after seeing her he tensed, realizing what he was doing, and started to draw away, his fingers catching on a rock to toss into the bushes on the other side of the slow river to warn her.

Unnecessarily.

"If you all aren't out of here in ten seconds, I'm going to go straight from the water to my bow." She spoke calmly, quietly, but the effect was the same as if she had been yelling.

The elves scattered within instants, leaving Legolas alone on the bank. He sighed and stood up, turning his back to the bare-skinned elf standing in the not quite waist deep water. A slight twinkling of that water shifting against the gentle current, and then the rustle of cloth caught his ear. He cleared his throat. "I'd prefer not being shot, if you don't mind."

"Then why are you still there?" she replied without rancor, but with a certain tone of accusation he really didn't like.

Not that he didn't deserve it. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Because we need to talk about this."

"About what? Me leaving camp to clean up a bit?"

He shook his head. "Not really. You're capable enough to wander the small distance you did. Some travel farther to relieve themselves."

"You can turn anytime," she murmured dryly.

He did so slowly, frowning slightly when he saw her.

"Yes, I changed shirts, and yes, I realize it isn't so dark it could be mistaken as black." She rolled her dark eyes and deftly fastened the deep navy tunic over the light blue undershirt. "So, what do we need to talk about, if not about me wandering? Me being caught?"

"In a manner of speaking."

She lifted a brow. "Surely not the threat I would shoot them," she murmured, as if he could _never_ have a problem with her saying she would shoot another member of his patrol.

"I rather think you would have," he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest.

She laughed softly. "Well… _at_ them, yes. I wouldn't have hit them."

He chuckled. "I didn't expect you would shoot _them_."

"Worried for yourself, then?" she quirked a brow with a faint smile as she walked a little down the bank to retrieve her soiled cloths.

"We do seem to have…"

"Difficulties."

He snorted. "Oil and water?"

She laughed softly. "And here I was expecting you to say elves and dwarves," she murmured dryly.

"Elleri mentioned you're quite fluent in the dwarven tongue," he shot back, quirking a brow.

"There are different forms of it, but yes. And we're off subject, again." She tilted her head slightly to the side as she studied him for a moment before returning to her movements.

It was clear she'd been doing this—bathing in a river or stream—for many, many years. Probably centuries. "Mmm." He watched her reach for her cloak where it hung from a branch and fasten it deftly around her. "What we should do about this… or rather, what _I_ should do about it."

"About what?"

He rolled his eyes and leaned against a tree. "About them spying on you."

She quirked a brow. "About _them_ spying on me?"

He sighed, closing his eyes, knowing he deserved it but wishing she would have just let it go nonetheless. "I spotted them, and started to ask what they were doing. They all but gagged me and motioned me to be silent. Silly me, I assumed there was some danger that required our attention." He grimaced at his naïveté, admitting—to himself only—that he could have looked away a little bit more quickly. "I am sorry," he added quietly.

She smiled slightly and inclined her head in acceptance. "I heard you," she admitted. "And I heard them quite a while before."

"Then…"

"I was going to finish my bathing before leaving the water. If they find my back that fascinating, why spoil it? This time, at least."

He lifted a brow at her admitted immodesty. He'd never come across a she-elf like her. "Most ladies, being spied on in their bath, would either scream and duck into the water to their chin or start throwing things."

"I am hardly most ladies, Prince," she murmured.

With a momentary pause Legolas realized the title 'prince' hadn't been delivered with the usual mockery. "Clearly. You are one of only four to ever officially join the service of the King."

"But one of hundreds to fight for the Wood in time of need."

"There is a difference between defending in a pinch and at the front lines."

She snorted and shook her head. "They are not titled 'soldiers' merely because they were not officially trained—but even she-elves will fight for the King, to defend their home, their families. I simply choose to join the defense before the need for more elves is dire."

He tilted his head and considered her for a long moment. Satisfied with his observation, he nodded and turned back towards camp. "What would you have me do?" he asked after a few steps, recalling the original reason he had stayed behind despite the threat of being shot.

She smirked. "Simply make it clear I have your permission to use my bow, should I catch them watching me again."

He inclined his head, but hesitated. "Not to say I don't think you can handle yourself, but if you won't allow someone to sit within hearing of you when you bathe, would you at least let it be known what you are doing?"

She shrugged. "Either is fine with me."

With a quirked brow he nodded and began the walk back to the camp. "Then every time you have the opportunity and intend to take it, you will inform someone that you are leaving. You may ask whomever you like to accompany you… I would suggest someone you trust to keep their back turned."

She chuckled softly and retook her place by her horse, slightly apart from the others. She pulled a wooden comb from a tattered traveling bag she had left for her horse to carry for her, and began pulling it through her hair.


	6. The tall one

Alright, I just got out of an awesome play a friend was in, so I'm in a good mood, and thought I'd go ahead and update this. A little bit of a lighter look (I think) into some inter-elf relations, and perhaps a chance for something more interesting as well.

Thanks to those who took the time to review! I really appreciate knowing someone is reading this.

LJP: Rithil and Ashes do not conflict that much. Not that this will turn into a three-some. Legolas is a prince, and acts like one (for the most part) in this fic. Having two elves enter a contest for him would be so beneath his dignity he likely wouldn'tremain in proximityto either for centuries. Much less speak to them. As for the shooting as opposed to another weapon. How ironic... LOL (read below, and you'll get it.).

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**_Chapter 6 The tall one_**

Ashes tilted her head to the side, then rolled her eyes to the arched ceiling with a faint smile. "Good morning, Elleri."

He sighed, giving up on trying to walk up behind her silently. "What gave me away this time?"

"I could hear your belt."

"My belt?"

"Mm-hmm. The metal on the end keeps hitting your dagger's sheath."

He glanced at her with a frown. "But… that could be hundreds of elves."

"But there are not hundreds of elves who would do their best to sneak up on me."

With a sigh he inclined his head. "Point to you, as ever."

She laughed softly. "So, are all the groups beginning these… 'activities'?"

"I take it Legolas was pretty closed-lipped about it?"

"Well, I am the only one who joined his patrol since the last time, so…"

"Yeah, he would just leave it for you to learn with the others. You know how things are set up, right?"

"Well… only vaguely. I didn't really pay attention to the set-up before. I know Legolas's patrol can't possibly be all that he commands."

"No. If that were the case we would need dozens of captains."

"And there are… six?"

"Five. Hathien and I will be within a few years, unless we decide to remain simple leaders."

"Leaders?"

"Mmm. Each captain chooses of his soldiers those who show they have the capability to be a captain some day. To each he gives control over a decent group of soldiers for group training. Groups _can_ take spider duty from time to time…"

"But generally leave it to the Captains?"

Elleri grinned. "It's how things are, Ash. Those who are more reckless tend to lack the qualities wanted in possible future captains, and they remain under those captains, as they don't want to pass them off to the leaders."

"So the leaders get the tamer elves."

"Generally. Sometimes people get shifted around—those with promise in the leader's groups… or with discipline problems they think the captains should deal with…"

"Are returned to the captains?"

"Yes."

"So… what about Jarthey?"

"She is the only captain to oversee the regular training of the groups that are not training directly under a captain. It works out for everyone—less work for the guys, more for her so she _knows_ she isn't just a trainer."

Ashes laughed. "I can't imagine her being _just_ anything."

He chuckled, nodding in agreement. "So, a few months after every trial, the new recruits are divided among the captains."

"Divided how?"

"Jarthey splits them up into lots of around four elves each—the captains can choose any of the lots, as long as they even out in the end."

"So if there's one that they know they just don't get along with…"

"That's the general idea, although sometimes that happens anyway."

"Understandable."

Elleri chuckled. "Legolas won't trade you."

She lifted a brow. "For his pride?"

"And because you're the only one he could spar with."

"Spar? He hasn't asked yet."

"He can't, yet. You aren't fully a member of the group until all the new recruits have been sorted out into their more or less final placement. As long as you don't do something he can't deal with against him, you'll stay with his patrol… and each elf trains with the others in his group."

"So… _that_ means he can't ask?"

Elleri stilled, then shrugged and caught up with her. "Well, not really…"

"But the fact that he is a Captain, not to mention Prince, and I'm not even an official soldier…"

"More or less," he agreed.

She rolled her eyes. "Males."

He snorted. "You're rather like us, Ash."

"I am not."

"Sure you are."

"No, Elleri."

"Yes. You're strong, independent, stubborn…"

"Doesn't that also describe your sister?"

He tilted his head to the side, and then had to nod. "Well, yes, but she's also far more subtle than Legolas or I."

"She has to be."

"Why would you say that?"

She rolled her eyes. "Elleri… what do males expect of females? That they be quiet, subservient, sweet, polite, thoughtful… If they aren't, then they have to be cunning enough to hide it."

He stared at her for a long moment and then gave a shake of his head with a slightly disbelieving laugh. "Even if I agree with all of that… which I won't admit… then by your own definition you aren't very much like most females."

"Because I decided I didn't want to be cunning in that way. Every person is born with some degree of cunning. Most ladies are trained to turn theirs to a sort of superfluous deception—appearing happy or pleased even when they aren't, to soothe the feelings of those around them. Males are encouraged to develop it rather differently—excelling in a certain field."

"Like the army?"

"Mm-hmm."

"So… how does that prove you're like females, rather than males?"

"Because, even though I may seem like a female wanting to be a male, I still have untouched layers of deception."

"Really?" he asked, smiling.

"Oh, haven't you noticed?" she murmured, arching a brow as they passed under the final archway that would take them to the training field. "I don't give a real name, I wear dark colors, I don't really get close to anyone…"

"Except me, and Verine…"

"Yes, well…"

He frowned, partly smiling. "I… you like confusing me, don't you?"

With a laugh she wrapped her elbow around his neck, pulling him over to the practice weapons. "Of course. Now, you said you would help."

"And I don't see what you need help with, if Legolas and Jarthey are interested in your fighting abilities."

"Archery, El. I'm proficient—well, that's downplaying my skill. I can hunt, I can kill orcs. My aim, while better than the humans I've known, isn't up to Mirkwood standards. Not up to Lothlorien or Imladris standards, actually."

He lifted a brow, disbelief clearly in his eyes until he watched her shoot a few times. The disbelief spread to his face. "Who taught you to shoot?" he asked, horror clearly in his voice.

"No one," she sighed. "Which is why I've asked."

He shook his head. "Your stance… Ash, that is the worst attempt at shooting I've _ever_ seen. Didn't you have someone to watch to learn?"

Her eyes darkened just a bit, and her head tilted slightly down as her jaw tightened. "Not really."

With a sigh he picked up a bow, and considered her. "Will watching alone be enough, or do you want instruction?"

"I've been learning by observation and doing. I haven't ever been instructed in the arts of war."

He nodded and started to ready himself to shoot before pausing. "While learning, I'd suggest you keep in mind how you shoot right now. Worst comes to worst, it's better for you to have a horrible stance and be able to hit what you're aiming at than a good stance with horrible aim."

She rolled her eyes but refrained from commenting, and watched him as he retook his stance.

Elleri fired twice before he gave in, turning his head slightly to see her. "I've never been so intensely studied before."

With a chuckle she broke the scrutiny. "Self-conscious?"

"Oh, no, not at all."

She laughed and tied her hair back. "I would think you would be used to it."

"What, being prince and all?" He shook his head and began shooting once more. "Legolas is the prince they all know—and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You don't think you're recognized?"

"I am," he shrugged. "Mostly because we all look so much alike."

"Not in the least."

"Same hair," he murmured.

"No," she shook her head. "Not the same hair, or the same eyes… Legolas and Verine have almost silver-blond hair, and Thranduil's sapphire eyes. You and Morsallien have slightly darker hair and bright blue eyes, with the slight shape difference you inherited from your mother. You two favor her more."

"We're also slightly shorter than our elder counterparts," he added dryly.

She smiled and nodded, biting her lip to keep from laughing. "Annoyed, are you?"

He sighed. "He's the eldest, looks more like Da—obviously even more so than Verine—" He didn't notice Ashes turn to hide her grin. "He's the Captain, the 'weapons master'… couldn't he have let me be the tall one, at least?"

Unable to help it, she laughed. "Elleri," she shook her head. "How old was he when he became Captain?"

Elleri tilted his head and began to calculate. "Around sixteen hundred, give or take a bit."

"Mm-hmm. And you're now over twenty-five hundred?"

"If this is supposed to make me feel better…"

"He always knew he wanted to be a weapons master. Ever since that spider incident when he was seven hundred. You didn't know. I'm guessing you still don't plan to be a weapons master."

"No," he shook his head. "But what has that to do with me being shorter than he is?"

"A knuckle's length!"

"I'm still shorter."

She rolled her eyes. "El," she laughed. "Of all the things to focus on, you have to pick something you had nothing to do with. Keep shooting, would you?"

"Hmm."

The gentle thunk of arrows sinking into the target had brought Legolas down the hall—all of the new recruits had today off, and all of the fully trained soldiers had the next month more or less off. They would be waiting in case of emergency, of course, but that was nothing new.

His eyes widened as he saw Ashes and Elleri holding bows.

"Now, try again."

With a lift of a dark brow, she did, and Legolas nearly choked as her arrow went extremely wide.

"Good! You've almost got it."

"Except my aim is extremely off, now," she sighed.

"Well, like I said—"

"I'm not slow, El. I know." She fired a few more times, then growled softly with exasperation, shifting her body to an extremely poor position that would put most people right off ever trying to shoot again—and her next three arrows lined up in a row in the center of the target. She shook her head and dropped her quiver, resting her bow beside it. "Start again."

Elleri chuckled and moved down to the next target, picking up a new score of arrows. He started again, pausing every now again as she shifted to a new position, slowly circling him. "Um… Ash?"

"You won't shoot me," she murmured faintly, standing nearly in front of him.

He hesitated, but adjusted just slightly before releasing his arrow.

She nodded and turned, adapting his pose. She notched and drew the arrow in moments, then released it… barely nicking the target.

It was an improvement, of course, but…

"Just practice," Elleri murmured when she turned to him with a frown.

Legolas shook his head and stepped forward, pausing for an instant when she whirled to face him. "Prepare, but don't fire," he ordered quietly.

It took her a long moment to decide, but slowly she did as commanded, eyeing him once ready. He looked up at Elleri, and motioned him around so he could see. "She isn't male, El. Her stance can't perfectly mirror yours with the same effect." He looked at her. "Your body shifts slightly to… make this position more comfortable for you." He stepped up behind her, resting his hands over and around hers. "Shift yourself just a bit more. It won't feel quite right now, compared to the one you've just learned, but soon it should work for you."

She frowned. "Shift how?"

He looked down over her shoulder, and moved his hand from her bow to her hip, shifting her slightly. He pushed lightly on her shoulder before replacing his grip around hers. "Feel the difference?" he asked, ignoring the fine tremor running through her.

She shook her head slightly. "I feel shaky. Like a slight wind would blow me over."

He glanced down and rolled his eyes. "Shift your feet, Ash."

She glanced down and did so, readapting the pose he'd forced her into. "Better."

"Alright. Fire."

They released the arrow, and she watched it land firmly not too far from the target's heart. She reached for another arrow when Legolas released her, and entered the pose again, studying how it felt without someone to steady both her and her arrow. She made a few more, slight changes, and fired again. It was a hair closer than the previous one, but she frowned.

"Now the best advice is to practice," Legolas murmured. He inclined his head slightly and left.

Ashes looked after him for a moment, frowning as she considered the ground before returning to her practice.


	7. Confused and a bit jealous

I figure out that if I post a chapter of Trial by Fire about every five days, I can get it done before graduation. There's not a chance with this one, though, so expect the normal once a week updates, and I promise I'll try to find a way to update over the summer when I can... but for a month I'm going to be in the wilds--no phone, no computer, no books, no shower, no toilet. Oddly enough, considering how much of a techno-geek I am (I go into shock when separated from my computer), I'm looking forward to it. I think all of that also managed to translate into no work, no school. By the Valar, I'm looking forward to it. More than graduation, sadly enough.

Anyway...

Thanks to those who reviewed!

Eyes of Sky: I tried to make each chapter of this story contain something that really added to the plot, instead of sort of time-biding as I've been accused of in past chapters. I'm glad it's working. ;-)

Navaer Lalaith: I've had a few other people suggest that I try writting in a more 'authentic' fashion, and I'm afraid you get the same old reply: I can't. I don't think I could do it justice without it sounding very stiff, stilted, and completely unlike what I was attempting to do. I'm sure there are some writers who can do it, but I can't. I know my shortcomings and I'm grateful to those who can overlook them to enjoy the story behind my non-Tolkien words. As for the elves appearances... In my mind, elves can have black or shades of blond hair, and silvery-grey to nearly blue-black eyes. Nothing I've read in Tolkien has dissuaded me, and I've noticed that a lot of fanauthors and fanartists have portrayed the same elf in a variety of ways. In other words, you're welcome to your opinion, but I've my own. I could point you to several Elfwood galleries who have Legolas, Gil-Galad and others with dark hair. As for their names, I used an elven name generater for all but three names. Another thing I noticed--no one seems to agree on what constitues an elven name. And nicknames, for goodness sake! Ashes is a wanderer... so she uses a wandering name.The others have been friends (or siblings) since they were very, very young. I don't call my best friend by her five-sylable name--it takes too long and slows down the conversation when we're in full flow. As for the 'mary-sue' test you insisted I look at, I kind of wonder if you've been reading the story I've been writing. Because I answered yes to about6 of those 190 (why I read that when I have four exams next week, I haven't figured out. Morbid curiosity perphaps), and they were mostly things like she is an elf, I'm not an elf (therefore, she's a different race than I am), same gender as I am, looks about 20(though a bit older), and she looks that way for a good reason(she's an elf). And now that I've responded to your review, I'm going to respond to everyone elses and try to get this up before I'm out of time and don't get any studying done.

Iluvenis: I doubt I speak your native language, but I can try and help you with questions, if you ask me questions. I can't really help if you only tell me you don't understand something.

Animir: I know what you mean. I loved archery at school (and this was three years before I read or watched LOTR, so no one bug me about that). You will know eventually, though I will say it wasn't exactly a fallen head over heels in love with Legolas kind of reason. Rather the opposite pole, really.

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**_Chapter 7 Confused and a bit jealous_**

Legolas frowned as he led the group of weary new recruits back into the mountain. His leaders weren't waiting for him, as they knew they should be.

"Legolas."

The familiar commanding voice broke into his thoughts, and he turned quickly. "Yes, Ada?"

Thranduil sighed and waited for the last of the group to enter the mountain. "Elleri," he murmured, beckoning his other son from the back of the group to join him as well. "Legolas, I need a message sent to Imladris, with all speed."

"You wish me to take it?"

"I do. But in such times you _will_ take another."

Legolas glanced at his brother, who was watching their father with conflicted eyes. He wanted to go, and Legolas knew that. "I'm sorry, Elleri. But I need you to take my place here."

Elleri's head bowed slightly, before he nodded. "An honor," he murmured, only partly soothed.

Legolas sighed and looked out at the recruits. "You know who goes where, correct?"

"Yes," Elleri agreed. After all, he'd been tested by Legolas the evening before, and the brothers had debated the merits and advantages of sending each elf to every position.

"Who would you have me take, El?" he asked softly.

Elleri considered for a long moment. "Ashes," he admitted at last. At Legolas's surprised glance, he elaborated, even as Ashes—having heard her name, moved over to join them. "She's no doubt been there more often and recently than you, knows fluently the tongue of any you might meet, and is more than adequate with her weapons. If you chose, she could be easily disguised to seem less of a danger to others."

"Forget it," she snapped. "I _will not_ be put into a dress and then on a horse for anything."

"Short of fleeing the land, would you have a choice?" Legolas asked mildly. "Of course, you've done that before."

Her eyes narrowed, burning him with furious anger. "I will go. But I will not be someone I am not."

"Fine," he declared, turning back to his father. "When do we leave?"

"Get yourselves and your horses fed. You will leave by mid-afternoon."

Legolas inclined his head shortly. "I will find you when we are prepared."

"I will be in my study," Thranduil agreed.

Legolas motioned one of the elves over, giving care of the horses over to him. "Come along," he ordered Ashes, sweeping quickly down the halls to the room his patrol had long ago claimed for its meals. "The King has chosen me and Ashes to carry out a task for him. I don't know how long it will take, but we leave shortly. Elleri is in command until my return. Understood?"

A quick, hard look from him stilled any questions, and he and Ashes were allowed to sit down in peace, eating quickly. He walked with her to her room. "Meet me outside Ada's study when you're prepared. Be quick about it."

"Of course," she agreed shortly, entering her room.

Legolas frowned faintly as he moved silently down the halls to his own room. He stripped himself quickly, setting his weapons aside and tossing his clothing in a ball at the corner, moving through to the bathing and dressing room he shared with Elleri.

"Done eating already?"

"Mm-hmm," Legolas agreed, easing himself into the large pool of water. He ducked down, wetting himself entirely. Elleri tossed the soap at him, and was watching him with a thoughtful, considering look when Legolas glanced up again. "What?"

"Are you angry with me or her?"

Legolas frowned, and tilted his head back so the suds wouldn't get into his eyes. "Neither."

"Then why do you seem to be angry?"

"I am in haste, El."

"You are angry."

With a sigh Legolas paused, then ducked under the water of the pool. "I'm not angry," he said slowly when he resurfaced, absently wringing the water from his hair. "I suppose…" He shook his head and stepped out of the water, grabbing a large cloth to dry himself with before dressing. "I suppose I wish I could get along with her. All my life I've gotten along with people, with few exceptions. Even the exceptions respected me, trusted me, for who I am. She… doesn't."

"I think she—"

Legolas shook his head, cutting him off. "No, Elleri. She doesn't trust me. Sometimes I rather get the feeling that she hates me, that she's mocking me for a fool. I don't know why… and it upsets me, admittedly."

"So you are angry to be stuck with her for possibly weeks or months."

Legolas's eyes darkened slightly, before he moved to gather some clothing to use in Imladris, and another set for the road. With a sigh he moved back into his room for his circlet. "No," he answered at last, glancing back at Elleri, who was only partially dressed. "Just confused… and a bit jealous of you," he crooked a smile at his shocked brother, and picked up the bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he returned to his room.

He had stepped into his boots and fastened most of his weapons before Elleri recovered enough to follow. "What?"

"You heard."

"I heard. I don't understand."

"You have her trust, her friendship. She looks at you with mostly happy eyes. She looks at me as if she can see through my body into my soul, and finds me lacking. I am the one who doesn't understand." He paused for a moment more, then shook his head and opened his door, grabbing the bag of clothing on the way. He caught a passing servant and requested waybread, along with some bread and dried meat and fruits to be brought to his father's study—more than enough for two to travel to Imladris. The servant bowed and changed course.

"I don't know why she allowed me to become her friend, Legolas. I don't really know that I am. She hides much, elder brother. Sometimes I wonder if she hides because of who I am, rather than whatever it is she keeps secret."

"I have never gotten the feeling that our titles have any sway over her," Legolas replied dryly, glancing back at his brother.

"They do… it's just very little." Elleri sighed when Legolas rolled his eyes. "Legolas," he protested. "Try not to make her get defensive."

"I never _try_, Elleri."

"You manage very well, then."

He sighed. "I know. Another thing I don't understand—it is almost as if merely by _being_ we hurt each other, and lash out to restore our own equilibrium. I do not _mean_ to do so. I do not consciously decide to snap, to snarl, to sneer… I just _do_. I haven't had such a time keeping myself in check since I was yet a child."

Elleri lifted a brow. "She destroys over two thousand years of practice?"

Legolas made an annoyed sound and pushed open the door of their father's study. He blinked to find Ashes already there, leaning against a bare bit of wall, arms crossed over her chest. He inclined his head shortly, then looked expectantly at his father.

"This is to go only to Lord Elrond, Legolas. Wait for a reply. If it is negative, return at once. A positive answer… needs no haste. You may spend what time there you wish."

Legolas nodded slightly and accepted the letter, tucking it into an inner pocket sewn into his tunics specifically for documents. They would remain more or less flat, and as clean as he did… which wasn't necessarily saying much. The main purpose of it, though, was that he couldn't lose it—there was no way for it to simply 'fall out', as many messengers had claimed had happened when a message was delivered too late or not at all. A slight knock on the door from Elleri—a triple tap, indicating a waiting servant which required only slight acknowledgment. "Then we are ready to leave, Ada."

"Good. Have a safe journey, Legolas. Ashes…"

She turned, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Yes, Thranduil?"

"You know the path. You know its dangers. Do not bring more to it."

She stilled for a moment, and then nodded. "I will do my best, my lord," she murmured, inclining her head before passing Legolas to leave. She quirked a brow when she saw Elleri. "In that big a hurry, were you?" she asked after he handed their supplies to Legolas.

He glanced down, realizing for the first time he wasn't exactly attired to wander the castle. It was passable—even common enough among the soldiers in the wing of the halls reserved entirely for them—but hardly princely. He shifted uncomfortably on his bare feet. "Well, yes, actually," he admitted.

She chuckled softly and started to leave when she saw a small bit of silver resting against his chest. She tilted her head at it. "That is not the house's symbol," she murmured, frowning up at him.

His ears darkened a bit farther, his fingers closing over the mithril. "No… my chain broke a while back. It's probably been repaired by now, but…"

"A replacement, then?" she suggested.

He shook his head. "No. A gift from a dear friend."

She looked into his eyes, seeing clearly that which Legolas could tell from the tension of his back. "A friend who pains you?"

"Only her lack pains me, Ash."

After a moment she inclined her head slightly. "Do you expect her back, then?"

"I don't know. She never said goodbye."

"Then maybe it wasn't meant to be goodbye."

Before Elleri could find a response to that, Legolas had taken Ashes by the shoulder and pulled her away, nodding at Elleri. "Leave well enough alone," he murmured when she started to protest his treatment. "He has spent centuries wondering if she yet lives—don't make him think she was abducted, rather than simply having decided to gallivant off somewhere."

"Such a decision is never 'simple', prince."

At her tone for the final word he stopped in the middle of the hall, sighed and closed his eyes, running his hand over them. "Look, Ashes. We have to deal with each other practically daily for the rest of our service careers. Whatever the reason is that you hate me, could you please set it aside?" He had looked up at her, and to his shock saw an unguarded moment pass in her eyes—a deep fear. "Ash?" he asked, reaching out to turn her head back when she turned away. She started trembling again—very disconcerting. "Why do you fear me so?" he asked, stunned and horrified by this unintended and unexpected revelation.

She broke away and turned, her head bowed for a long moment as she took calming breaths. "Because you have power over me," she finally answered.

Finding that answer rather more confusing than enlightening, he frowned. "My title? You and Elleri are quite good friends," he half-grumbled. It had pained him to see the elf who avoided and despised him so much rest with her head on Elleri's chest, or keep watch sitting at his shoulder as he slept.

She didn't answer, didn't look at him… didn't even _move_.

With a sigh, he shook his head. "I don't intend to hurt you," he offered at last.

"Of course not," she agreed.

He wasn't sure if he was relieved or not that she had recovered from her momentary inability to control her voice, keeping emotion from it. With her back turned, he couldn't tell if she meant it, was being sarcastic, or perhaps accusing him of having already done so… or perhaps of _doing_ so.

The thought made him far from comfortable, and he shifted his weight onto his left leg, watching her for a bit longer. "Ashes… we should go."

She nodded once and began walking quickly to the main gate, her cape hanging almost limply behind her, as if too worn out to flare or billow.


	8. Fool enough to live

To quote one of my most annoying teachers ever: 'Happy Friday!' Of course, it was most annoying when she would breeze into the building at eight on Monday and declare 'Happy Monday'. Her voice was of the carrying kind, so you could hear her all around the blasted building.

Anyway. Friday. Weekends. Updates. ;-)

Thanks to those of you who reviewed!

eyes of sky: Thank you very much for your reply--it was nice to know I'm not the only one who thinks that way.

Iluvenis: Anytime--don't be shy!

Swasti: And here you go. Good?

LJP: A very interesting comment. I'll get back to that eventually.

Navaer Lalaith: I'm sure with a lot of practice and time I could learn to write in an 'authentic' manner. I simply don't care to. If I'm going to spend twenty plus hours of research, then no doubt days of writing to get comfortable with the flow, with the language use, with the verbs and the slang, the subtle hints and word bandying, then I'm not going to do it for this. I'll do it for one of my original works. I write fanfiction as a form of stress relief, to get away from long, dull reading assignments that contain all of that stuff already. Okay, try this: Show me where Tolkien says they can only have blond hair and blue eyes. As far as I'm aware, he wasn't Hitler. What Tolkien I have read (which is admittedly only the LOTR, The Hobbit, The Sil and the Fall of Gondolin) is generally very vague about most appearances, with few exceptions. He'll talk about the fire in their eyes or the light of the stars in their hair or on their brow, but he doesn't often say so-and-so with blond hair. Even those times he does, you could quibble over the language, the wording to such a point you could deny a color actually exists even there (much of the time, though admittedly it would be a stretch in the cases I'm aware of). As for the rest of it and any other objections you could raise to my writing, I can only reiterate that I'm a struggling student coming up on finals and graduation, and this is what I do to relax. Start your cruisade somewhere else, please. I doubt I'll have time to write anything more than I have for fandom, anyway, once my two current stories are complete, so you can rest assured I won't be furthering the corruption of the true and pure Tolkien world much longer.

Idhrenniel: May I ask what you meant by 'knowing herself well'?

**_

* * *

_**

**_Chapter 8 Fool enough to live_**

Legolas shook his head slightly—it had occurred to him that he usually spoke more than this on _any_ trip to Imladris. Even when he was alone… save for his horse, anyway. He and Ashes had been getting along fairly well… of course, they hadn't spoken, except for a very few words, the entire time they traveled through the woods. Now they were facing the open grasslands, and he was, quite frankly, bored stiff of silence. When he was traveling alone he would sing, talk to himself or his horse, or just play a tune on the crude reed pipe Elleri had given him several years past for amusement on these trips.

He withdrew it now, and studied it for a time. He glanced at Ashes where she rode silently a bit ahead of him, as she had been—she clearly knew the way and was keeping an ear open, should he speak or fall farther behind. Still watching her, he brought the pipe up and played a few notes, meeting her eyes when she glanced back in surprise. He paused, but she made no motion to stop him, so he began playing.

As always seemed to happen, what tension was in him began to slowly seep out, the melody changing from time to time without conscious thought or will. He closed his eyes, at peace with the music, with the calm world around him, with the animal trotting along beneath him.

Suddenly a hand fell upon his arm, shocking him into jerking upright, falling silent, and opening his eyes. He looked at the elf the hand was attached to, and saw her concentrating, head tipped slightly, hair away from her ears… A warm, full smile suddenly appeared on her lips, filling her eyes with peace and joy as she glanced at him for an instant before riding swiftly off in another direction.

"Ashes!" he called in shock, commanding his horse after her. "What are you—" he froze, voice paused in his throat when he saw her horse rear up to meet another dark-colored horse who had been idling the day in a small thicket. It was certainly _not_ an elven horse—stocky and coarse in appearance.

"Ashes?" a rough voice asked. A tall figure rose from the grass and the ground to peer under her cloak.

She laughed and excitedly threw her arms around his neck. "Who else, fool?" she laughed.

He chuckled and swung her around, one arm pinning her firmly to him as the other managed to remove the hood. "Wandering my way?" he asked.

"Depends," she replied with a crooked grin. "Which way is your way?"

"Back to the Dell," he replied.

"Then it is," she smirked, holding out a hand as his horse came over to nudge her. She gave the large soft nose an affectionate rub before patting his neck. "Though we're in something of a rush."

"Really?" he quirked a brow, and then noticed Legolas. "Oh." He stared for a long moment, taking in clothing, weapons, and the proud white horse who served unadorned. "A Mirkwood elf, Ash?"

She shrugged. "I went back."

"Clearly. Then why are you off to Imladris?"

"He's carrying a message for Elrond from Thranduil."

"And you're along… why?"

"So he's not alone. Thranduil's orders, Elleri's request."

"Elleri… the prince requested you leave?"

"No," Legolas said shortly, looking down at the man. "He requested she accompany me."

The males sized each other up for a long moment, neither seeming quite satisfied when they were done. "Well," the human said at last. "Shall we be off?"

"Mmm," she agreed, swinging onto her horse's back with more joy in her eyes than Legolas previously believed her capable of.

"You seem to have fallen in quite well, for no longer than you can have been there. Only eight months?"

"Four," she replied, moving so he was riding between the two elves.

"Four months and you're already on a first name basis with the younger prince, and accompanying the crowned one on an official errand."

Before she could respond, Legolas did. "Well. You know who I am. Now who are _you_?"

Ashes's open expression closed, making Legolas's lips tighten slightly, though he wasn't conscious of it. The man, however, was, and quirked a brow. "Strider," he answered at last, before looking up at Ashes. "We plighted our troth."

"_What?_" Legolas gasped. "But… but she's an _elf_!"

"Be _quiet_, Prince," Ashes sneered, moving her horse quickly so she was between them. The large black horse nudged Legolas's roughly to the side. For her part, Ashes turned to Strider and ignored Legolas's very existence. "What does her father think of this?"

"I don't know that he knows yet, but I can guess… he thinks loving me is her death."

"It is," Ashes murmured softly. "But having her love you back brings you back to life, old friend."

Strider half-smiled. "Hardly a decent trade. She gives up her immortality, and I get another short number of years with the one I love… knowing that my love will bring about her death. I…" he sighed, shaking his head. "You were right, Ash. I _should_ have just left it all alone. She didn't love me, then. In time perhaps…"

"You would have always loved her," she countered.

"I know," he agreed after a painful pause. "But she didn't love me. She could have lived forever, not loving me. Some day she—" he broke off, struggling with the words, with the _thought_. "Some day she would have found someone to love, who could love her as she deserved, and for the rest of their immortal lives."

"Immortal life isn't the gift you make it out to be," she whispered.

Strider glanced at her searchingly. "The time in Mirkwood has been hard on you."

She sighed, turning so Legolas couldn't see her face, though he was trying. She put Strider between them once more.

"You needn't answer. You aren't happy there, my friend. Why remain?"

"I am not _unhappy_ there, either," she replied at length.

"You were happier elsewhere."

"Happier, yes, but never truly at peace."

"Is it in your nature to be at peace?" he mused, studying her. He reached over and tugged the hood down.

Pain lines had appeared around her eyes, and shown in the tense lines of her mouth. For a moment she looked old, as ancient as the land they wandered, but she controlled it quickly enough. "I don't know," she whispered. "As I was only briefly at peace—true peace. I have not felt it in many centuries." A bitter smile curved her lips, a cruel mockery of hope and happiness. "I shall never feel it again. But I'm fool enough to live—and life breeds hope."

"Or hope breeds life?" Strider suggested.

"Don't," she murmured after glancing at him. "I want no pity."

"You don't have it," he replied softly, waiting until she looked at him again. "But you do have my sympathies."

She slowly shook her head with a smile. "I don't really care for that, either."

"How about my love?"

She chuckled softly and smiled gently at him. "I have that."

He laughed. "So you do. Dear friend," he murmured, watching her, shaking his head. "How long will you suffer in silence?"

"Until the end of the earth's life-ages, or the end of my own," she responded quickly, gazing at him with hardening eyes. "As I _must_."

"I don't know that you _must_ do anything, as you only ever allude to what bothers you so."

"Enough," she hissed, touching her horse's neck, sending him into a gallop.

The two males knew well enough to leave her be, letting her draw up well beyond them. Strider looked at his companion, his grey eyes knowing as he studied the sapphire ones as they thoughtfully considered the other elf. "She's already been hurt, Prince Legolas."

Legolas glanced at him. "Why tell me that?"

"Because you watch her with interest I doubt you show for all the females in your kingdom… and I sincerely hope it's not the interest shown for all members of the guard."

Legolas frowned. "How did you know that she—"

"It's what she _would_ do. She's been more or less alone and on her own for so long… what _else_ would she do? Start sewing? Cooking? Become a laundress? I can't imagine her doing such as that. I can see her in a line of archers, or waiting for orcs or spiders with her swords or daggers ready."

After a moment's thought, Legolas agreed with a curt nod. "Still," he murmured a moment later, "your insinuation that I'm interested in her in any sense other than as a soldier in my patrol is utterly—"

"Correct, whether you admit it to yourself or not," Strider cut in. "Otherwise, why the pain, shock, and then fury when you misunderstood me, thinking I was her betrothed?"

Legolas stared blankly at him for a long moment, his automatic thought to simply deny it, but the question took root, digging deeply, searching for the truth. The color left his face entirely, his lips paling to a faint grey. "Oh, Valar," he groaned, covering his face with a hand.

He rode silently for a time, and Strider waited, watching the prince think.

Finally he shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"What? How can it _not_ matter?"

He sighed. "Because she hates me. Fears me. Despises and avoids me."

Strider hesitated for a long moment, then decided. "I've never known her to hate _anyone_, Prince. Even those who have tried to kill her. She doesn't _hate._ She just doesn't."

"She is quite good at hiding her emotions."

"Not that one. It would show in her eyes. Have you seen it?"

"At times," Legolas admitted on a whisper.

After staring at him for a long moment in complete and utter shock, Strider urged his horse after Ashes, slowly pulling up beside her. He glanced back, reassuring himself that the prince was well out of hearing. "Do you hate him?"

She glanced at him in surprise, then sighed. "Estel…"

"Answer me, Ash. Do you hate him?"

"At times," she admitted softly, before shaking her head as if she hadn't intended to speak at all.

Legolas's head bowed slightly, and he dropped farther back, not wishing to hear any more.


	9. Selfexiled drifter

Okay, quick chapter before I'm bogged down in work once more!

Thanks for the reviews, guys.

Navaer Lalaith: Okay, I realized I skimped a bit on my initial disclaimer for this story, so here is the full version, which I tend to cut down for obvious reasons: I am not Tolkien, and I don't channel him on a regular basis. I am a full-time student, part time supervisor, full time peace-keeper and personal advisor, and I write in my spare time--what little of it there is. I have read LOTR, The Hobbit, and the Silmarillion. Anything I could not have learned in there is from my own imagination, and should not be taken as biblical or Tolkien fact--it is from this marvelous little invention known as imagination and authorial discretion. If you don't like people taking some slight liberties in the writing of FANFICTION you can, and are welcome, to go elsewhere. Otherwise, read on, and I hope you enjoy it. (and I'll admit I don't know what all the different elf-types are, so I may have made a hair-color 'mistake' somewhere there, but I've _never_ and will never write an elf with brown hair.)

Iluvenis: LOL, thanks. You don't think it's going to be that easy, do you?

Swasti: _At times_, keywords there.

LJP: I WILL NEVER write a tenth walker story. Promise ;-) So, Legolas and Aragorn don't know each other but know _of _each other, obviously Aragorn and Ashes met in the wilds as they explored (she met a few others as well, as you'll see soon). And no, she's not melinnia older than he is. You might be mixing fics, or I may havedone too well at making her seem independant and self-sufficient. (Shh, don't tell anyone--she's _younger _than he is).

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_**Chapter 9 Self-exiled drifter**_

"Estel!"

Strider, Estel, Elessar, Aragorn—looked up with a grin at the enthusiastic call. "Elladan!" he laughed as the elf in question dropped down from a tree. "Come to greet me?" he teased.

"We heard there was a small group of travelers," Elrohir answered, "so we came to see…"

"And warn you that Ada isn't happy with you, or Arwen, really."

Aragorn sighed. "I wouldn't know him if he was happy with this, Elladan. Why should he be happy? I've condemned her to death, haven't I? Unless, of course, I go off and get killed somewhere in the wild."

Ashes smacked the back of his head for that one.

"Hey!"

She lifted a brow.

He snorted and looked away, properly chastened.

Elrohir lifted a brow at the hooded elf. "Well. Aren't you going to introduce us… One of you? Legolas? Estel?"

"Oh, right." Aragorn smiled a bit sheepishly. "Ashes, my brothers Elladan and Elrohir."

"We've met, actually," she murmured softly. "Unofficially, of course."

The twins wore identical looks of concentration as they studied her, which broke into comprehension as she unsheathed a blade, showing it as her identification. "Oh! Right. You know," Elladan murmured thoughtfully, "we talked to Glorfindel about you later. He said he'd run into you several times."

She half-smiled and inclined her head. "He has. Literally and figuratively, in truth."

After a rather awkward pause, Elrohir cleared his throat. "Well… we should probably get going, right? You'll probably be wanting something more…"

"Something with more flavor," Elladan murmured.

"Er, yes… to eat?"

Legolas lifted a questioning brow at their less than elegant speech, but didn't question them. "I need to speak with your father sometime today, if possible."

"Of course," Elrohir waved a hand dismissively, before hoisting himself up behind Aragorn. Aragorn's horse snorted a bit and swatted Elrohir with his tail, but continued on, flattened ears the only sign of displeasure.

"He's free all evening. Considering you've brought the kid back with you, you'll likely all be at the head of the table with us, anyway. Not that you wouldn't be, anyway, mind you, but he does sometimes let you slip away."

"Not often enough," Legolas murmured quietly, shifting a bit so Elladan could join him in riding.

"Well, you're here now. How long, by the way?"

Legolas shrugged. "That greatly depends upon your father… and what Ada asked of him."

"You don't know?"

He shook his head slightly. "Not this time."

"Must be either something to do with you or very secret, then."

"Obviously," he replied dryly.

The horses stilled for a moment at the top of the trail, looking down at the valley dwellings. "Welcome home, Estel."

Aragorn sighed, and shook his head slightly before leading the way down.

Ashes looked after him sympathetically, understanding completely—home. It _was_ home, and yet it might never be home again. Not truly. Citron moved a bit nervously beneath her, knowing they didn't usually go this way. "On we go this time," she murmured, patting his neck, calming him down. "On we go," she mused, staring at the peaceful looking dwellings that would never bring peace.

Elladan stilled Legolas, keeping him from following. "Why is she here?"

"She is a new recruit in the King's Service… Elleri wished her to accompany me here, as Ada refused to allow me to travel alone."

"Well, she's got the weapons experience to be a guard, I suppose… but she's a wanderer, Legolas. A self-exiled drifter."

He glanced back. "How do you know?"

"Estel doesn't get so close to those who were exiled for other reasons, Legolas. She _chose_ to begin wandering… like him, she may never be at peace in a single place for long."

Legolas mused over that, allowing his horse to pick his own path through the rocks. She was a wanderer, but she had chosen to leave? He couldn't even argue with himself that he didn't understand why someone would do that, because he'd entertained the thought on occasion himself. If he weren't the eldest prince, he probably would have left Mirkwood to wander, at least for a time. Of course, if he weren't the eldest prince, he most likely wouldn't feel the need _to_ wander.

But what could make a young female elf want to roam? No pressures of obligation in running the land, clearly. No service missions she would rather not be a part of. A betrothal she didn't desire or approve of? Possibly. He found himself admitting that things were decidedly easier on males than females, in Mirkwood. If a male didn't like his situation, he could, for the most part, change it. At least so that it was bearable. A female, though, had it a bit harder. She was to yield to the eldest male of her family, or lacking one at all, to the male she had been entrusted to. Those who didn't yield, didn't submit, were usually out of luck in many ways.

There were, of course, exceptions. And it would be very unfair to say that the majority of males took advantage of the unspoken contract between the genders. Jarthey had become a soldier. Had fallen in love…

He shook his head, hating to go on with that line of thought. There were very strong and important she-elves in Mirkwood, but they were vastly outnumbered by male elves. If 'Ashes' had come across a situation she couldn't abide and couldn't avoid, running away was, really, her only choice, sadly enough.

Most she-elves who came to that point ran to his father, though, which was what confused him about her. She spoke of Thranduil easily enough, and knew the halls a bit too well for one who should still be unfamiliar with them. It stood to reason, then, that she had run _from_ the halls.

Which would most likely make her a lady by birth, as the servants would turn to the King more quickly and over smaller things than any village lass would. A lady, though, might believe the King too close to her situation to give impartial judgment on her behalf.

Could that really be true? Could the silent, dark, dangerous and deadly elf riding ahead of him have been born a lady? The word lady in Mirkwood had long been considered something of a joke, at least to those of the 'lords' who could be even slightly objective. Most of the 'ladies' were simply of higher blood and lower worth, really. They _might_ be better educated than the masses, but it was pretty hit or miss. Most felt their title was all that they ever needed to know, and acted accordingly. They tended to generate interest in others through their beauty only, which was always over-valued and flaunted. There were, of course, exceptions beyond his sisters, but they had been married off long ago.

Ashes could read, write and speak every tongue he knew, though, which indicated a fair amount of study—one may speak a language from travels, but writing and reading it required a different form of contact, which no true wanderer would ever have.

She hadn't been trained formally in any form of weapon use, which was another good indication that if born to the halls, she was a lady. The servants all spent their training rotating through the possible jobs, so they could not only find one best suited to their own talents and tastes, but so they could fill in in a pinch. Every female to walk into the hall for work in the last twenty-five hundred years had been trained while in the kitchens to wield a knife quite deftly—on males as well as vegetables. Throwing knives was a specialty, and most carried one in a pocket near the waist of their gowns.

Ashes carried several daggers along with her long knives, sword and bow, but he had never seen her use one. She kept them as a last resort, while some of the servant girls would pull them out if a male pressed in too close for their liking.

He could remember complaints about that right after that particular training had begun, but he'd been young enough at the time he didn't understand why it was a bad thing the she-elves had been taught to defend themselves.

"Legolas? Are you awake?"

He blinked and glanced back at Elladan. "Just thinking."

"Well, you can come in for dinner anytime," he murmured back, an amused glimmer in his eyes before he left.

Legolas shook his head and dismounted, allowing a faintly familiar elf to lead his horse away. Ashes's horse was protesting, but she calmed him enough to suffer being led away.

"Why do you stare so?" she asked suddenly, turning slowly.

He tilted his head, trying to see someone he knew in her features. Something tugged at his memory, but refused to come forward. If she did resemble someone he knew, it had been a long time since he last saw whoever it was. "You were born a lady of our halls, weren't you?"

She stared at him for a long moment, before blinking with a shake of her head. "No."

"But…"

"I wasn't born in Mirkwood at all, Prince."

He frowned. "I was lead to believe Mirkwood was once your home… for longer than a few years."

"It was. I was not born there, however." She started to turn sharply away, only to be faced with the edge of a blade.

"You're distracted," her attacker observed.

She blinked, lifted a brow and leapt back, drawing her sword to counter the arching blow that was coming. "You're doing better at sneaking," she countered softly, dropping into a roll.

Glorfindel lifted a brow and followed, doing his best to keep her on the offensive. Even with two blades it could be very difficult, and nigh on impossible when she went all out to defend herself. "Like I said," he murmured, pausing to hiss in a breath as she attacked a bit too quickly and closely for comfort. "You're distracted."

"Look where I am, Glorfindel," she growled, narrowing her eyes as she drew a dagger, using it as a shield.

"Finally decided to see it properly?" he suggested, whirling around quickly enough he caught her sword, aware that her dagger was in a dangerous location for them both. He hooked his right leg around her left one, pulling her towards him sharply, dropping his blades to the side to catch her hands as she stubbornly began falling rather than giving up her own weapons. Before she'd fallen far he had disarmed her with a flick of his wrists, and joined her hands over her head, enclosing them in one of his, holding her up.

Not for the first time he studied her, wondering what had led such an elf to the life she had chosen. Her features were very strong, yet delicate in a way, and there was enough there to let him know the truth… when he would bet few others did. It was possible, he mused, that even she didn't know the whole truth, though it was impossible for her to be ignorant of the majority.

She had regained her footing, unintentionally warning him by narrowing her eyes as she considered her attack.

Since he had a free hand, he used it, pulling her even closer, turning her at the same time so her back was pinned to his chest. He rearranged his own legs so she couldn't upset his balance, even with a good kick—which she was very capable of. "Yield the match, young one," he murmured, holding her still.

Her breath released in a pant, and her body relaxed for a moment. Then the faintest tension in the abdomen muscles beneath his firm touch… but not warning enough, this time.

Elrond winced as the dark-haired elf Glorfindel was sparring with jerked her head back, catching him squarely, making him stumble back a half-step, his hand involuntarily rising to his nose. She used the space gained to turn, bringing a knee up before jerking around again, releasing her hands and kicking him upside the head. Before he could straighten she had recovered her dagger and kicked his blades aside to join her sword. She rounded him slowly until she was between him and their weapons.

He watched her hold the dagger, eyes narrowed and considering, before he slowly inclined his head. "As ever, the match is yours," he sighed.

She relaxed slowly, her caution and wariness making Elrond frown. Glorfindel didn't heed it, simply walked around her to their blades, passing hers back without comment until she'd sheathed them. Then he ran a hand through his hair and faced her. "So. Why _are_ you in Imladris?"

She tilted her head to someone who was still in the shadows, and Elrond saw the Prince of Mirkwood watching the pair with a look of intense thought and consideration.

"Prisoner?" Glorfindel smirked.

She rolled her eyes. "Hardly," she sighed. "Guard. Sort of."

Glorfindel lifted a brow, then glanced at Legolas. "Oh?"

Legolas shrugged. "Ada didn't wish me to travel alone. She was Elleri's suggestion."

He glanced over at her. "Oh?"

"I'm one of the new recruits in the King's Service… I tend to stand out."

"I'd imagine so," he mused, half-smiling as she avoided his lingering gaze, taking the time to study the buildings around her, instead. "Shall I give you a tour, my lady?" he asked, bowing gallantly.

She smiled and dipped into an easy curtsey made awkward only by her clothing. "A pleasure and an honor, my lord," she replied, hooking her hand over his offered arm amiably, though they soon stepped apart when their weapons tangled.

Elrond watched them go with amusement foremost, though a great deal of curiosity accompanied it. Who was she? "Welcome back, Prince Legolas."

"Thank you, Lord Elrond." Legolas inclined his head slightly. "My Father and King sent me with a message for you."

Elrond considered their location, then mentally shrugged. "Did he speak of its urgency?"

"It was urgent enough he was waiting for me to bring my soldiers into the mountain so I could carry it."

"Then perhaps I had best peruse it now?" Elrond murmured. When Legolas lightly inclined his head and retrieved the letter, Elrond wondered at the formalities that always lay between him and the prince. His sons had gotten around it to befriend the prince, but he had not yet managed. He had a feeling Legolas expected a certain degree of, well, _lordliness_ about him, and he could hardly fault the prince for that. In fact, the unspoken expectation put him slightly ill at ease, a little worried that he might not live up to it. All in all, their uncertain footing when together made their interaction a bit forced, a bit too formal… but he had hopes for future times.

He took the letter and read it in silence, half-aware that Legolas remained facing him, still, silent, solemn, and seemingly unconcerned with the contents. He was rather surprised at the contents, himself, and glanced at the prince in some surprise. "I have no answer as of yet, Legolas. Your room will be prepared before the meal's end… along with one for… her."

"Ashes," he murmured dryly in explanation. "I would appreciate being informed of its location… I don't know that she would tell me honestly."

Elrond lifted a brow at that.

Legolas interpreted both the questions and the thoughts behind them in the gesture. "She is new to Mirkwood, and innovative with her blades, as you've seen. However, she fears and hates me, at least at times, though I don't know why. But, as she harbors such feelings towards me, she avoids me… rather understandably, I suppose. The last time I asked to know where I could find her, she put me off for more than a day before answering… and then it was only after a direct order."

After a thoughtful moment, Elrond inclined his head. "See if some time away from the rigors of the Mirkwood Service help things ease between you. My reply shall take some time, and cannot be hurried."

Legolas bowed his head slightly, a gesture Elrond returned entirely. "Might I suggest we attend the meal, then? It has been a while since I was so blessed to find myself at your table, Lord Elrond."

Elrond smiled faintly. "You are always welcome at it, Prince Legolas. You would be, Prince or not."

Legolas glanced up sharply, and for a moment a glimmer of understanding, of comprehension shown in those sapphire eyes. But his features were soon schooled into diplomatic neutrality, and he bowed his head slightly. "Thank you, Lord Elrond, but you would not know me, if I was not a Prince."

Elrond sighed, realizing now that it was he, _himself_, who had not understood. And he had thought his messengers _joking_ or at least exaggerating when they spoke of how paranoid and cautious Mirkwood elves were. "Legolas… your father is your ruler, and you must represent him well and truthfully. You represent the kingdom, all of Mirkwood… but you are an elf as well as a prince, and you can have friends even where politics would seem to beg otherwise."

A muscle tightened in the young elf's jaw. "Friends and politics do not belong in the same thought, Lord Elrond. I do not believe I can balance them as they should be. Not when the Wood is so troubled, at least."

"Legolas, a friend with power is an ally in times of need—one that need not be asked, begged or bribed."

"True. But a friend of mine my one day be an enemy of my father, of Mirkwood."

"And even then they would be _your_ friend."

"Even if they cannot be the prince's?" he asked quietly, his head turned aside.

"Yes," Elrond agreed quietly, closing his eyes. "Even then."


	10. I will release you

Computers hate me today, so I'll cross my fingers that this works. I've already spent an hour swearing at the darned thing under my breath.

Iluvenis: Elrond was just saying that Legolas doesn't always have to be the perfect prince. He can be a mere elf from time to time, as well. He can have personal friends as an elf that he might not be able to have as the Prince of Mirkwood. Clear now?

Swasti: Wouldn'twe alllike to know? ;-)

ilovesam: that's a screen name a friend of mine would have picked, though I haven't heard from her in months. I will always keep posting stories I've started, though internet access is sometimes patchy.

Navaer Lalaith: If you so despise reading my work, if it's soterrible and not worth the space, then why bother? I'm sure there's some obscure article out there that very few people have heard about that you could read, instead.

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**_Chapter 10 I will release you_**

"Is there something you wished of me, Lord Elrond?"

Elrond started slightly at the unexpected words, but had his features schooled quickly… not that it mattered, as she didn't turn around to look at him. "Merely to observe you."

She turned her head slightly towards him, glancing at him from the corner of her eye over her shoulder. "Think I have designs on one of your sons or the Prince with one of my blades?" she asked after a moment, before turning so she could once again consider the intricacies of water trickling slowly over rocks and leaves. The arches of light and gentle tinkling of sound.

He considered her question for a long moment. He'd been watching her for the last three months… as far as he knew, this was the first time he'd been caught. In all that time, he _still_ didn't quite understand the answer to the question he needed to know, but he knew the answer to many that had not been asked. "No." He walked a bit closer, so he could see her profile as she gazed beyond the small garden to the waterfall across the valley.

The faintest hint of a smile touched her lips. "But?"

"But I do not know what to make of you."

"Why is that? Merely because I am female I cannot desire to wander on my own?"

He decided to let her distract him from his true meaning. "It is uncommon, you must admit."

"Your daughter is fairly head-strong."

An astute point. "Yes. But she does not wander the unknown world alone."

She glanced back. "There is no map, where she wanders," she replied softly.

He closed his eyes, taking a moment to compose himself, to hide his pain. "No," he agreed at length, his voice still a bit rough. He looked up at her in time to see a flash of anger being hidden deep within her dark eyes. "Why so angry, child?"

She snorted. "I am hardly a child, Lord Elrond, even when put up against your years."

"Aren't you?"

"I have wandered more of the world than your maps depict. I know more of the other peoples than you, even with your gifts, can. You remain safe here, hiding your master's secret, while I have been soaked in dark blood time after time, weary year after weary year. Your title protects you even when you venture beyond this haven. My blades have been all to protect me for more than a thousand years." Despite her harsh words and somewhat angered tone, her slight movements were perfect reflections of grace, of harmony with the world around her as she reached up for a butterfly, inspecting it as it wandered her hand willingly.

After a long moment, he inclined his head slightly, allowing her the fight. "But why angry?" he asked at last.

Her eyes darkened with fury for an instant before schooled away. "She is in love, Lord Elrond. And you pity her. If she loved him without hope, then by all means, pity her, be her comforting arms when she weeps… but he has loved her longer than she has loved him."

"There is no hope," he declared, realizing too late how loud and angry his voice had become. The butterfly sped away from her palm.

She half-faced him, head tilted, clearly studying him as intently as he had studied her. After a time she spoke, softly, her tones gentle though her eyes remained carefully blank. "She shall die, yes. And you shall miss her, as will many others. Will you really deny her happiness while she can have it?"

"She was happy before him," he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

She lifted a brow at the defensiveness he displayed, clearly nearly as surprised by it as he was. "Yes, I'm sure she was. But she will not ever be happy without him."

"Which will happen quickly."

"Any moment held in love's arms lasts an eternity," she countered quietly, her voice softening farther. "She no doubt wishes him to be an elf, and may one day look back at her younger self with confused scorn, but she will _always_ love him, and will always remember…" she turned slightly away, missing the sudden widening of Elrond's eyes.

Before he could reply she turned towards him, inclined her head shortly, and left quickly, slipping through the trees without sound to betray her. He blinked, then found himself hearing another elf approaching him. "Legolas. I have your father's answer," he murmured when the elf in question appeared.

Legolas inclined his head slightly. "If positive, he said there was no need for haste."

"No," Elrond murmured, "I don't suppose there would be."

Legolas lifted a brow, clearly not knowing what he had been sent to determine.

"It is positive, young prince. Very positive… though a little bit troubling."

Legolas inclined his head slightly, accepting the somewhat cryptic statement. "Have you seen Ashes, then?"

Elrond hesitated, then tilted his head to the side. "She left not long ago."

The prince's eyes hardened, and the lax manner he had showed before was cast away as he drew himself fully upright. He nodded once in Elrond's direction and then strode from the garden, slipping through the trees.

Elrond sighed, feeling very old in those moments, and yet, oddly enough, something like a foolish child.

Legolas heard Ashes long before he would have expected, and came across her quite soon after. He stilled when he first saw her, wrapped as she was in Glorfindel's arms, her head resting upon his shoulder. They were both quiet, and seemed rather peaceful, so close their hair mingled the rays of dawn with the mystery of night… Glorfindel glanced up, inclined his head slightly, and bent his head towards her to murmur something into her ear.

She lifted her head, glancing up at him, her look so _trusting,_ so _open_, that Legolas felt the ground beneath him shake. "All right," she murmured softly. "Until later, then, my lord."

He released her with a fond smile. One hand reached up slowly to cup her cheek, and then he leaned in slightly to kiss her forehead before stepping back. "My lady," he responded, deeply bowing his head to her. He tilted his head slightly at Legolas on his way back to the library.

She watched him leave, then spared Legolas a glance. "Were you looking for me?"

"Considering I have seen you once beyond meals since we arrived here, wouldn't that be a fair assumption?" he replied a bit testily. "I do not take kindly to being ignored, Ashes."

"Of course you don't," she responded, bitterly. "You're the prince."

Legolas caught himself before replying, closing his mouth decidedly, taking a deep breath. He was somewhat surprised to find it worked, and he calmed enough to reply civilly. "Elrond has Ada's reply. We may leave whenever we wish… or remain for a time."

"Which are we going to do?"

He glanced at her, tightening his crossed arms over his chest. "I came to ask you."

She stared at him in shock. "Me? Why?"

"Because my decision affects you, as well."

A bitter smile touched her lips as she shook her head. "This decision is of little importance to me."

"You wouldn't miss Glorfindel?"

She lifted a brow at the jab, but didn't ask the reason for it. He was immensely grateful for that, as it let him at least pretend it hadn't sounded as it had. "Glorfindel is a friend. I have spent many centuries leaving friends behind. Why should this time be any different?"

"Are you so close to all of your friends?"

Her eyes chilled dramatically as she looked at him. "My _friends_, prince—" he flinched to hear the nasty twist given to 'prince' once more, "are everything to me. I would gladly give my life over for them. But my friendship is not given lightly, and they know me well enough to know not only that, but that they must accept that I wander—that I have, that I do, and that I likely will continue to wander through my life."

He frowned at her, eyes narrowing slightly. "Then why join the Service?"

"An experiment mostly failed," she admitted, running a hand through her loose hair, gathering it at her nape. She looped it into a single twisted knot and let it fall to her shoulders once more, slowly uncoiling to be free again. "I wanted to see if I could return to Mirkwood… if I could accept a place—any place—there once more."

"Well, except for me, you seem to be very well adjusted to the lack of true, free wandering."

With a soft sigh she began walking. "But you are the prince. If I can't get along with you, then how can I stay?"

"I am one of a great many, Ashes."

She inclined her head slightly, admitting the truth of that statement. "But one of two princes, and the only crowned one."

"Unless disaster strikes that won't mean anything."

A solemn glance from aged eyes made him pause. "Doesn't it?"

He looked away, but refused to look at the ground. "Would you like to be in a different patrol?" he asked at last. Even as he asked he knew it wouldn't completely work—he wouldn't fully give her up, not when she was the first capable of truly challenging him in centuries. He might send her with one of his leaders for a while, or make a gift of her to Elleri when he became a captain, but either way he would be within his rights to ask a spar of her… at least for a few years, in the latter scenario. But if she wanted the change, he would manage it somehow. Even if, in the end, he had to give up a sparring partner.

She looked at him for a long moment. This time she was the one to back down first, her gaze flittering to a few birds where they twittered on a branch. "Elleri said once you wouldn't trade me."

He lifted a brow, tightening his arms. "Once, he would have been right. But you seem to fear me alone of all the Captains. You treat the others as amusing cousins or brothers. I am not cruel, Ash. If you wish released of me I will release you."

She shuddered, and her head dropped a bit as her shoulders hunched, looking for all the world as if she'd just been physically struck, or completely beaten. "I…"

He hesitated in taking a step towards her when he heard a faint waver to her voice. The thought of her normal reaction to his closeness deterred him, making it an abbreviated movement.

Still, she noted it, turning her head aside. "I don't know that I would choose to be free of you, Legolas, if you could release me," she murmured faintly, her arms crossed tightly over her abdomen as if she was going to be ill and was trying to prevent it.

He blinked, realizing that was the first time she'd called him by name.

When she ran from him, he let her go.


	11. Close to his heart

Sorry about the missed update--things have been busy. I've finally gotten more than four hours of sleep, though, and I don't have an exam that I have to be up by five for, so I remembered I was in the middle of updating two stories. And, here it is--the next chapter that at least a few of you wanted.

Iluvenis: It's hard to respond to you're review, because to explain would be to give far too much of the story away. Ashes has her reasons for being distant, and is hurting at least as much as he is, if not a lot more.

LJP: She's not exactly in love with him, no. It's difficult... So, I guess I'll just have to say ask again several chapters from now if things still don't make sense. Yes, he has a lover. That's all she is.

Swasti: Close! Just about Ashes, and what it's about is what the entire story is about.

eyes of the sky: Sort of. With this many confused readers, I'm starting to think I've screwed up somewhere. Ashes was hurt badly in the past. Legolas reminds her of that. That's all I'm saying for now. ;-)

Animir: I was thinking you'd said you were getting the others out, but it wasn't in the other story I just posted a chapter for, so I was wondering if I was confused. I would ask if you can laugh yet, but there's no real need for this chapter. Well, Ashes and Glorfindel share a mutual respect, but tinged sort of to an uncle/niece relationship.

RockFee: Thank you! Your review definitely made me smile. I know what you mean about the stories coming up--I've found the same thing happening to me with HP fanfics. I've just given up and read things from the author's bio, rather than scrolling through. It saves time looking for decent fics, because the quality only improves over time. Oh, and Ashes does in fact have an elven name (or my equivalent), she just doesn't go by it.

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_**Chapter 11 Close to his heart**_

_She can take care of herself_.

He had been thinking so hard for so long, even his reassurances were beginning to sound like someone else.

Glorfindel's words now echoed hollowly in his head, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the elder lord was wrong. She couldn't _always_ take care of herself, clearly, or she wouldn't have had to run from Mirkwood in the first place.

He glanced up sharply when the human entered.

The man—whatever name he was going by today—shook his head.

Legolas let out a tense breath and began pacing.

"Legolas."

He glanced over his shoulder in irritation, lips tightening against an automatic command that wasn't proper, here, even if it would accomplish his purpose.

"She has wandered for years… _centuries_ on her own. Why should this week be any different?"

"I don't _know_," he ground out, for what had to be the thousandth time. He pressed a hand to his chest, and let his head fall. "I just _know_."

Strider dropped gracelessly into a chair, and watched the unconscious elegance as Legolas absently brushed his silvery-blond hair back from his face, turning to gaze out the window once more. "What is it you _know_, prince?" he asked, having long since grown accustomed to feeling like the clumsy child who would never fully grow up when around the elves.

"That…" he paused, letting out a breath. "That though she has run from something in her past, I believe she wouldn't shirk her duty. Right now it is to be here." But she wasn't here.

Strider inclined his head slightly. "You're right about that much, at least. She's probably just wandering the mountains."

"For a week? Without taking food or water?"

"She knows how to find what she needs without carrying it."

"What about her weapons? Her bow, sword, long knives, daggers… all are in her room."

When Strider sighed, Legolas paused, looking at him.

After a long moment he dropped into a chair, lifting a hand to cover his eyes. "Am I that transparent?"

"You're worried about her… as am I," the man admitted aloud what the elf had just realized. "But I've checked all the places I've known her to be. Elladan returned not long ago, but Glorfindel and Elrohir are still looking."

Legolas nodded distractedly. "It's all so hopeless," he murmured after a fair silence.

"What?" Strider started from his own thoughts.

"This," Legolas murmured, indicating the room. "I should be furious that a soldier, any soldier, here to accompany me, has gone missing without a word. I should be considering how to dismiss her from service for desertion. Instead, I'm pacing the floors, so worried about her that my chest aches." He pressed a palm to the center of his chest again.

Silence.

"It isn't a pretty thing, is it?"

"What?"

"Seeing an elf so overcome with emotion?" Without waiting for a reply he got to his feet, pacing once more.

"Does it matter what I think?"

Legolas glanced at him, paused for a moment. "No. It doesn't, does it?"

Strider shook his head. "Not at all."

With a nod he began pacing again. He heard Strider sigh, but didn't speak again, until he heard steps come in behind him. He turned, seeing one of Elrond's sons.

"We haven't found any sign of her… which doesn't necessarily mean she wasn't there at some point," Elrohir sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. He considered the free chairs, the tense prince, and the rug's slightly altered position. "I'll keep an eye out for Glorfindel," he murmured at last, leaving the room.

Strider snorted and got up, straightening the rug. "You should stop pacing before you wear a hole through it," he advised.

"Maybe," Legolas agreed. He continued to pace.

Strider picked up a book, flipping it open, beginning to read.

After a while Legolas ceased his pacing and cast himself into the chair once more, resting his head on his hand.

Strider felt the glare and looked up, lifting a brow.

Legolas flushed slightly, but ceased the glare, his anger leaving. "You've shown yourself blunt and honest, with a fair amount of insight," he murmured at last, pinning Strider with a solemn look. "Can you tell me why I've developed feelings for an elf who hates me?" he snorted at his own words and looked out the window. "At least I don't love her…"

"Yet," Strider murmured.

Startled sapphire eyes flew to his, probing the light grey ones unconsciously as he considered the unexpected reply. "Yet," he admitted at long last, before groaning and covering his eyes. "What death wish have I?"

With a sigh, Strider pinched the bridge of his nose. "She doesn't hate you, Legolas."

"Doesn't she? She has admitted as much."

Strider shook his head slightly. "No. What she _hates_ is having someone in a position of control over her. You're in that position. Is it so odd she sometimes hates you?"

Legolas lifted a brow. "I don't believe you," he stated at last. "And while I would normally let it pass, you have not caught me in the mood for such leniency. If what you say was true she would, by association, hate Elleri, Verine, Morsallien and Ada. Or Glorfindel, and Elrond. Yet _I_ am the only one to be watched with such spite and anger, with hate."

"None of them are directly her commander," he countered.

"Ada is. He has commanded her. I've _seen_ him do it. And she regards him… almost as a father. With respect, affection… even if she hides it fairly well, leaves it to lurk within guarded eyes."

Strider shrugged. "Perhaps it is only daily command that earns her displeasure?" he offered.

Something in his tone, his attitude, caught Legolas's ear and eye, keyed up as he was over her inexplicable disappearance. "You know," he stated. "You _know_ why she hates me, why she fears me."

As Strider shifted uncomfortably, Legolas watched him, searching his eyes and face.

He tilted his head to the side, curious. "And yet you don't encourage me away from her. You try to reassure me, to convince me things might work out, given time."

"And so they might." Strider squirmed in his chair for a long moment, and then sighed, giving up on hiding from the prince. "She doesn't hate you, Legolas. Not truly."

"I've seen it in her eyes, and heard her admit it," he hissed, eyes narrowed.

"But at the end of the day, she doesn't hate you. Hates the power you have over her, certainly. Fears you hurting her with that power, especially as—" he broke off suddenly.

Legolas was not a captain nor a prince for nothing, and caught the falter. As he had said, he was in no mood for this. "Especially as what?" he asked, eyes narrowing, body tensed as if to spring upon the man if he failed to give a good answer in a short amount of time.

Strider was watching the prince with eyes far wider than in moments before, and he fell mute, trying to think himself a way away from this predator without revealing what he was pretty sure Ashes wouldn't thank him if he were to _hint_ at, much less spell out… when he heard a shout. His ears were unable to decipher the words, but Legolas was out of his chair in an instant and at the door, peering into the night.

Slowly the sound of hooves caught his ears, and soon Glorfindel appeared, a limp bundle held tightly in his arms, close to his chest.

He looked his years in those moments, his face a bit grey, perhaps tinged blue, hair streaming silver with or frozen by the water that had flooded away most scant traces of the quarry he'd been sent to seek. He glanced up, saw the two who waited for him, and slowly dismounted, swearing disjointedly under his breath when a lax arm escaped the warming confines of his cloak. He shifted carefully, gathering her close once more, the arm being jerked by the movements back under the faded grey material.

"Glorfindel?"

He looked up at Elrond's voice, and knew his helplessness shown in his eyes. "I… I-I found her," he managed at last, unconsciously holding her a bit closer.

"Was she attacked?" Elrond asked immediately, striding out into the freezing rain to study her. He had already cast the cloak aside when Glorfindel found his voice.

"I saw no signs of injury," he forced out, shivering.

Elrond looked up from her, noted the chilled water running over his features, and tightened his lips for a moment. "Bring her to the healing rooms. Quickly."

Elrohir moved forward, taking Ashes when Glorfindel was unable to move. Elladan propelled him inside, to the fire, and reappeared a bit later with a blanket and a change of clothes. They waited silently as he peeled his icy clothing from his body, as his stiff limbs managed to accept the new, relatively soft and warm ones. As he covered the clothing with the blanket, and sat numbly before the fire, watching it burn without thinking of things that had happened long before any present had been born, as he had not been able to since meeting Elrond.

It took some wine and several minutes before he was able to bring himself back to the room.

The goblet slipped from his fingers, spilling crimson on the stone. He watched it spread, and remembered…

Far too much.

"Glorfindel?"

He looked up, seeing Elrohir. He slowly quirked a brow.

"What happened to her?"

He shivered and shook his head. "I don't know."

"Is she…"

"She wasn't, when I found her," Glorfindel allowed softly to Elladan's question.

"Where did you find her?" So Estel was here as well.

Glorfindel heaved a large, weary sigh and rubbed his fingers against his temples. "In a clearing. Stretched out on the ground." Arms folded under her head as if she had cast herself down to weep. "Cold to the touch." Eyes closed. Blue lips. Only the faintest hint of life left deep within her. His attempts to keep her alive this far were telling on him—he felt closer to dead than alive himself. Even now, he couldn't feel the fire's warmth. He knew it was there, could feel the pain of his thawing body… but he couldn't yet _feel_ it.

He heard someone leave, and a moment later _felt_ warmth. It felt as if he'd been plunged into a fire, but the fire was before him, this warmth beside him, around his shoulder. He leaned into it, letting himself be held as if a child.

The child he had often warmed smiled faintly, tightening his arm around the ancient warrior. "Ada will bring her back."

"If anyone can," he countered, sighing as he closed his eyes, trying to heal.

Legolas looked at the odd pair, the young human holding the ancient elf, offering caring warmth where it had so desperately been needed. His ears were tuned to sounds from the rooms beyond, and glanced up when Elladan returned. He looked troubled.

"Ada… isn't sure what's wrong with her," he hedged.

Legolas's chest began aching again. "And?"

"And… you once trained with him for a time."

When he understood, he shook his head. "No, Elladan. It's no doubt my fault she's in this state," he muttered bitterly, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "It's best I stay far away right now. I certainly wouldn't be able to call her back."

Elladan frowned slightly, but rested a hand on Legolas's shoulder before calling his brother over. The twins left, returning to the healing rooms, ready to help their father in any way they could.

When Glorfindel opened his eyes, he could feel the night had nearly spent itself… at least once. He blinked a few times, and looked over to see Estel slumped in a chair, quiet snores escaping him. Legolas was standing by a window, watching the sky for hints of the dawn… or maybe just lost in thoughts. "Any word?"

"Not yet."

"How long has it been?"

"Over a day." Legolas glanced back. "She was already unconscious when you found her?"

He sighed. "Yes." He had a feeling she'd been like that for a good amount of time. "Where is she?"

Legolas shrugged. "As the twins and Elrond are with her, it shouldn't be hard to find her."

"Why haven't you gone? It was because of you we were looking for her."

The prince tensed, and then released a tight breath in a troubled sigh. "I think… it may, somehow, be my fault that she's like this. I don't know _why_ I think that, as she's shown too much strength to be so harmed by an offer to let her serve under one of the captains she _doesn't_ hate… but I think it, all the same." He frowned. "No. That's not true. I _know_ it, though I don't know how, or why."

It took a few minutes, but once Glorfindel felt his full strength returning he leapt from the chair, grabbed the prince by the arm, and led him down the halls until he heard Elrond and Elladan speaking in low voices. He entered the room, pulling Legolas behind him.

The prince didn't object, and was so subdued that Glorfindel could almost feel pity for him.

Almost.

"Elrond?"

Elrond sighed, looking up at him. He managed a weak smile. "Glad to see you're awake, Glorfindel."

"How is she?" he asked, after inclining his head slightly.

With another sigh Elrond shook his head. "Alive," he murmured. "But showing no signs of being willing to awaken. She has been like this since dusk," he added, motioning at her.

She was dressed, for the first time that he'd seen her, in clothing fitting of her gender. A pale nightgown, without sleeves. Several scars—mostly faded nearly into memory alone—decorated her arms, including one rather nasty one from slightly above her elbow to the first knuckle of her middle finger. Between her long sleeves and mostly finger-less gloves, he'd never noticed it.

She tossed her head slightly, revealing another scar on the side of her neck, a faint murmur leaving her as sweat broke out on her skin.

As if he'd done it a thousand times before, Elrohir mopped her skin, removing the sweat, cooling her flushed flesh.

"Since dusk?" he repeated softly.

"Yes."

He closed his eyes for a long moment, then sat down beside her. "Child," he murmured.

She murmured faintly and tossed her head the other way, her hand jerking slightly before falling limp at her side.

He picked up her hands, twined her fingers with his own, and bent his head. _Child,_ he called, and received no answer. "Child," he repeated. "Daughter long lost and yet well loved, listen and answer—return to your trials! Do not shirk them for fear of pain or failure!"

For a moment her eyes slit open, and to all ears except his her words were but gibberish. "Cannot… please… sorry…" She slipped back into the fevered state, pain touching her face too often for his liking.

He got up, turning his back to the others, and ran a hand through his hair. Then he whirled. "Bring her back, _prince_," he snarled.

Legolas swallowed, eyes dark and pained. "If I am the cause of this, then my attempts might drive her too far away for any to reach her!"

"She is already too far away, Legolas," Elrond murmured wearily. "Glorfindel _almost_ touched her."

With slow, hesitant steps, Legolas stepped forward. Her thrashing increased when he was nearly beside her—instantly he stopped. "See?"

"Try!" Elrond commanded.

Wincing, Legolas sat beside her, and reached out a shaking hand to her sweating brow. She twisted away before he could touch her, but after a bracing breath, he rested his hand over her forehead.

At once she stilled, and Legolas's head dropped.

"Elrond?"

"It would seem he's reached her," Elrond answered dryly. It was very rare for a patient to be reached so easily. _Very_ rare. He had never before seen it done. And while Legolas had the gift to a degree slightly greater than most of the masses, it was _very_ slightly, and far from developed. The prince had little patience for learning the art of healing.

Glorfindel shifted uncomfortably. "How long will he be looking for her?"

Elrond shrugged, and was about to give a guess when Legolas slowly lifted his head, blinking as if just returning from the edge of death himself. In the next instant his eyes widened and he jerked away from the bed, storming out of the room.

They looked curiously back at her, seeing her eyes were open, watching the door. She turned away from the dark-haired elves, and curled up into a ball on her side, before her entire body shook once before silent tears fell. She didn't respond to any words, any pleas, and shook off all hands… except for two.

Glorfindel picked her up and found a comfortable chair, cradling her close as she clung to him and cried like a child as she hadn't since long before she was no longer considered one.


	12. Things were fine

Hi, guys!I've managed to sneak onto a computer again, but I had warning enough to save a chapter and take it along. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!I have a lot to do online and limited time, so answers will have to be short.

Iluvenis: I had to pick my jaw up when I read your review--A leap of intuition?

Swasti: Anything in specific I could try to clear up? If this chapter doesn't help, let me know.

Animir: School's out... I just have very random access to the internet from now to mid-August. Congrats on being able to smile. That's the last of the pesky buggers, right?

LJP: Legolas ran because he discovered something he didn't want to--about her, and about his own actions. It's discribed a bit below. As for her turning from Elrond and family and to Glorfindel, she is friends with Glorfindel. The house of Elrond is nothing to her--Glorfindel is. Nothing exactly happened between Legolas and Ashes here, save that Legolas got a kick in the pants unintentionally.

The Luckiest: Well, I'm glad you chose to keep reading! It's something in my writing I can't get away from, for reasons as yet unknown to me--the first chapter seems slow, mostly background. Not so much background in this case, just general introductions. Dull, I know.

_**Chapter 12 Things were fine**_

Rithil stepped forward, and gazed at the garden below them with unconcealed contempt. "You didn't see enough of gardens while you were in Imladris?" she asked, irritation clear in her voice.

"You didn't have to follow me, if you preferred remaining inside," he countered quietly, gazing at the muted colors.

"I came with _you_. Therefore, I'm expected to leave _with you_. Is that so much to ask?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, removing his circlet before loosening the first fastening of his shirt. "Maybe it is."

"My lord?"

He shook his head slightly. "You know it would never have worked, Rithil. We've both known since the beginning."

She was silent for a long moment. "That's it, then? You leave for eight months with another elf and come back and expect me to be happy about it?"

"This isn't about her," he sighed.

"Isn't it?" she hissed. "Things were fine until that… that… that _wanderer_ showed up."

"Things were fine," he agreed quietly. "They could still be _fine_, Rithil. But I don't want things to be _fine_ for the rest of my life." Her anger had slowly ignited his own, and it began flaring out of control, making his words into spiteful daggers to cut her as deeply as he had been cut… even as part of him knew it wasn't her fault he had been pained. She didn't even know about it. "This is no great loss to you—it was nothing more than a dream. Snare the prince and be set for life, right? Well, not this prince. Not Elleri, either—he's always been a bit smarter about your gender than I have. Things may have been just _fine_ for us for centuries if we let them pass by in such a farce, Rithil, but I don't love you, and you don't love me." He found a rather great relief in that knowledge, but tried to be gentile enough that she didn't see it in his eyes.

"And you do love… _her_?" she snapped.

Rithil had always refused to use Ashes's wandering name. "No. I don't. And as things stand she and I would be utterly miserable with each other, should we try something like this."

"Then _why_?" she asked, beginning to sound less like the 'lady' she was and more like a petulant child who doesn't yet understand that whining only angers adults rather than encourages them to give in to the childish demands being made.

With a sigh he shook his head, releasing his anger, knowing she didn't deserve it, and certainly couldn't handle it. "Rithil… when you've found the right one, you shall understand."

"And _you_ have?"

"I must have," he agreed softly. "Otherwise I wouldn't be haunted by the one time when it wasn't _fine_… but was so wonderful I am unable to consider less for long."

She gaped at him for a long moment, her expression changing so swiftly it almost seemed frozen, before she turned and swept back into the room where the feast and dances were still going on, as they would be until well into tomorrow.

He watched her storm through the feast, barrel past the dancers, and slam the door on the other end of the hall so loudly it made _him_ wince.

He sighed and closed his eyes, waiting for her to come. The gentle sound of swishing skirts soon caught his ears, as he had known it would. "Took you longer than I expected, Verine," he murmured.

She sighed and moved to his side, looking out at the garden with him.

"It was foolish," he murmured after a long moment.

She remained silent.

"Surely she knew that?" he mused, running a hand through his hair as he began to have doubts.

"Did you know that?" she asked quietly.

He paused, and after a long moment inclined his head. "Yes. I suppose I did."

"And _why_ did you know that?"

"Because I knew she couldn't be the one…"

"Good. Now stop being such an ass and get it together."

He lifted a brow.

She scowled at him. "Don't look at me like that. You've been denying the truth for centuries, and I'm quite tired of it."

He smiled faintly. "What truth would that be? That no hall lady can hold my attention for long? Or at least, can't make me happy? Content, perhaps, but never happy."

She sighed and wrapped her arm in his. "Yes," she stated simply, surprising him. "And you're intelligent enough not to settle for merely being content."

He half-smiled, wondering when his little sister had gotten to be wiser than he was, and turned to sit on the balcony. "Is it intelligent not to settle for being content?"

"If you accept mere contentment, you will never be truly happy."

"But is that happiness worth all the time of loneliness? Of wondering if…"

"If?"

He gazed blindly into the hall.

"Legolas? If what?" she pressed, sensing as she always did that this particular point was very important.

"Once I was very happy, Ver. I just… I just don't know if it was real."

For the second time in just a handful of minutes, a she-elf was left gaping at him.

He reached up and gently pushed her lower jaw back into place.

She shook herself free of her shock and frowned at him. "You don't _know_? How can you not _know?_"

He sighed, and shrugged, deciding at last just to explain. Now that she had an inkling of a story she would never let it go again without a full explanation. He'd learned long ago it was best simply to indulge her curiosity. Far less irritating. "I woke up one morning, and felt so amazingly at peace, so ready for anything life would ever want to throw at me again. I… I thought there was an elf beside me, and I reached out for her, knowing she was the cause of it all, but there was no one there. I untangled the blankets and pushed them away, looking for some sign it _had happened_… and found none."

"Maybe she left?" Verine suggested, biting her lip.

He smiled faintly. "If she felt half of what I did, Verine, she would not have left. She _could not_ have left."

She turned and considered the swirling mass of bodies in the hall beyond their secluded balcony. "Then it must have been too much to drink."

He closed his eyes with a pained sigh. "I know."

After watching him for a time she looked back into the hall, seeing Morsallien sitting beside their father, smiling slightly from time to time at whatever he was saying. Elleri was… _there_. In the center of the room. Dancing with… another male? She frowned and focused on the dark-haired elf, before smiling as she recognized who it was, despite the clothing. Or perhaps because of it. Ashes. The ever-graceful, ever mysterious wanderer. "What do you think of her?"

"Who?" he asked, opening his eyes.

"Ashes." She watched a shadow pass over his eyes. "Legolas? What is it?"

"Nothing."

"If it were nothing, you wouldn't say it was. Now, what is it?"

He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair once more. He shoved his circlet farther aside, shifting so he could sit cross-legged on the broad stone railing. "While in Imladris, I somehow hurt her. I don't know _how_, exactly, only that I did, and that it was a deep wound. She fled from me, into the wilds around the haven… and nearly died."

"What? Why did we hear nothing—"

"What was there to say, Verine? Was I supposed to come in, when all is well, and drag it out once more? Risk hurting her when Elrond wasn't there?"

She stilled, then slowly relaxed. "What else?"

He grimaced. "That is utterly annoying, you know."

"That's why you wait for me to join you out here when you know you need to think about something but don't really want to think about it. Now. What else happened?" She looked at him sternly, waiting.

Silence reigned for the longest time, before he drew a knee to his chest, wrapping his arms around it. "They couldn't reach her. They warmed her up—she'd been unconscious, exposed, in an ice storm, but they couldn't call her back, couldn't break her fever or bring her back. Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir… even Glorfindel tried, but all with no luck, though Glorfindel, at least, got her to almost open her eyes. They made me try."

"And?"

"And I reached her, obviously."

"Legolas," she sighed, bringing a hand to her eyes. "Even when you want to speak about difficult things, sometimes I think it would be easier and less painful for us both if I simply cut out your tongue so you wouldn't have to."

"Verine," he murmured softly. He rested his chin on his knee, and closed his eyes. With a weary sigh, he gave in. "She didn't want to come back, Ver. She was happy there. So happy. Peaceful. But I was selfish. I wanted her back so her death wouldn't weigh upon me forever, as I was the reason she fled. I pressed for her to come back, even through she was so much happier…"

"And?"

"And somehow I managed to find out why she didn't want to return to life. She lost her mate, Verine. The one to whom her soul was bound is lost to her. Yet she followed me back. With all the pain, all the anguish she has carried for so long, she still followed me, because I am her commander," he muttered bitterly. "I think I understand, now, why she fears me." He hugged his leg a bit closer.

Verine looked at him, and with a sigh, wrapped her arms around him, leg and all. "You look like a child when you huddle up like that. So hurt and defenseless," she sighed. "I can't help but try and make it better, though I know I can't."

He smiled weakly, and thought back to a warrior lord who had recently been held in such a fashion, and wondered if any of them ever really grew up. Then he had to wonder if he really wanted to know, if they did.


	13. Somewhat macabre

Hey guys, sorry about that! I thought I had to wait until my computer ended up in the same half of the country I'm in... but I'd apparently left a chapter uploaded from the last update... (ducks)

I probably wouldn't have noticed if I didn't plan to upload a little one-shot that bit me earlier this week, and won't sit still until it's bagered me into throwing it up for general consumption... It'll be up by the time anyone reads this, most likely.

Review Response: There may not be many people reading this, but at least they review nicely! Thanks, guys. This is another experiment that has apparently failed... I like it, though.

Iluvenis: From the stand-point of a writer who's trying to keep the audience guessing, I'm happy to report that you're not entirely correct... though you're rather close, sadly enough ;-)

The Luckiest: Sorry, I was hoping to update sooner... clearly if my head was attached I would have. I'll have to find it someday, maybe then I'd spell better...

Swasti: I thought so, too...

LJP: I love the thought of 'rubbing out' his girlfriend. Sounds very mobish. (Cue cheesy narrator) _And the mob of fangirl's is closing in, surrounding the little tart who dared attempt to capture their 'Leggie' before the main character had a chance to flip her hair that one final time to capture his heart-- oh! Ladies! Retract those claws! And someone, return the poor thing's wig! Really, pulling her ear-tips off is a bit much!_(clears throat). Ahem. Well... I'm clearly in a goofy mood. And I very clearly wrote the below in a very different mood. Glad to be online.

* * *

**_Chapter 13 Somewhat macabre_**

The sun passed overhead, beginning to sink into the west. The trees welcomed it, banished it, only the weakest, indirect rays managing to struggle down to the cleft in the rock. From that cleft, reflected from sheets of carefully designed metals artfully and strategically placed, it bled into the little garden, as it had done for countless years.

Other gardens captured the last rays of the sun more cheerfully, and certainly without the crimson tinge that reminded those who had been in battle of the times their skills had been for naught, and dearly loved friends had never returned.

Very few knew of the garden at all, and those who had seen it viewed it as somewhat macabre, with the dirty, almost brown light that managed to filter down even at high noon, the far from lush and thriving plants that were so adored in other gardens, and that bleeding terror of sunset.

It had its own beauty, he supposed. In the darkness grew plants unseen in other gardens, in other lands. A few flowers bloomed here that could not survive elsewhere—she had once tried to grow one, thinking the dark colors a nice contrast to the bright white. Her reasoning was it would make the white seem brighter.

For the few days it lived, it had.

But then it shriveled up, and she had given up on it, not caring much for the plain, near-black bloom, anyway.

She had enjoyed that moment of crimson, as well, it having been one of her preferred colors to wear. She would bask in the glow, not knowing how garishly it painted her. He hadn't either, at the time.

Legolas no doubt had, which would explain why he had usually put them off if he was asked to join them. That, or he simply hadn't cared to spend time with his little brother and his best friend.

Looking back, he thought her young, perhaps a bit foolish and childish. After a moment, he always remembered it was right for her to have been so. She _was_ a child. Well, practically. She hadn't even been twelve hundred when she disappeared. Though elves were considered adult at a thousand, her life had been sheltered enough since she was just a hundred years old that she, like him, had failed to mature at the same rate as those elves who grew up in harder circumstances.

It worried him, really, when he thought about it. She had been so _young_, so innocent. And one day he had awakened, her pendant clutched in his hand, the chain tied about his wrist. It wasn't really a goodbye, but it had sent the blood pounding through him, made him run from his room without bothering to pull on any more clothing than he had fallen asleep wearing.

Since her room had been the one beside Verine's, which was across from Legolas's, he had raced through his elder brother's room, only vaguely aware that Legolas had been sitting in something of a huddle on the edge of his bed.

He could faintly recall Legolas calling after him, and he knew he had been followed, because when he tried to open her door, shaking as he withdrew the key she'd had made for him years past, sliding it into the lock which gave way to reveal a room empty of its occupant, a set of arms wrapped his shoulders.

He had broken away, gone to the wardrobe, found most of her things were there. "Legolas…"

But his brother wouldn't let him hold onto that sliver of hope. "She's taken her leggings, El. And her father's sword."

He had turned, seeing only then that the ancient sword that had hung over her door since the day it had passed to her was gone from its place of honor, no longer guarding over her sleep.

"She's gone."

He had probably cried, but he didn't remember it. He had probably argued with Legolas's heart-crushing statement, but he didn't remember that, either. He remembered the pain, the confusion, the wish to deny it all… but she loved that sword. She had left it there to keep her father close to her. She would have taken it down only if she wasn't planning to come back.

His only real friend who wasn't also a sibling wasn't coming back.

Even after more than thirteen hundred years, that truth hurt. Just as much as her lack of goodbye.

He closed his eyes on a sigh and tried not to think of her. Morsallien was quite right—as soon as you tried not to think of something, you thought _only_ of it. Her case in point was to tell him not to think of Legolas in a dress.

Eventually, though, the memories were left well behind. After all, he'd spent more time without her than he had with her. Those years had been adult ones, as losing her had forced him to grow up rather more quickly than he might otherwise have done.

When he opened his eyes, the garden's lighting had changed very subtly, the softest silver sheen painting the dark leaves. It gave the entire place a rather unreal feel, as if he was wandering through forgotten realms that had managed to converge with his own for a moment.

In the silvery light he found he wasn't alone in the garden, which was quite unusual. In the centuries he had been coming here alone to remember Rin, he had only seven times before encountered someone else. Once it had been a servant sent for him, and told to check the garden. Five times it had been one of his siblings, seeking to draw him from his thoughts when he had spent too much time lost within them. The other two times it was Ashes who had appeared unnoticed.

She was leaning against one of the trees which had managed to grow up to be fairly sturdy, once upon a time, but it had long since given up the fight for light and nutrients, reduced to a crumbled shell, its broad leaves nearly forgotten by its spindly and broken branches. The light washed her hair, giving it streaks of pale distinction, casting indistinguishable shadows where it was hindered by the braids that gathered her hair from her face. Her features were cut harshly, the shadows being cruel to her, making her a stone figure of solemn strength borne with too heavy a price, caught for a moment of weakness in repose.

Only she wasn't asleep. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted just slightly back to bask in the light, as if it were true starlight instead of a mangled, adulterated version forced deep within the mountain.

"What happened to you in Imladris?" he asked.

Her eyes snapped sharply open, her body tensing, drawn fully upright so any moment's weakness was covered at once. She blinked at him, slowly getting over the shock of his presence to realize not only that he had asked a question, but what it was. She released a breath and leaned back against the tree, her bowed head casting her face in utter darkness, making it impossible to tell her feelings, as her voice was completely void of emotion. "I finally broke down to weep for one I lost long ago," she finally admitted.

"You haven't laughed, haven't _smiled_, since you and Legolas returned."

"No," she agreed faintly.

"Why?"

She tossed her head back, the light cutting her face into defined planes of silver and darkness. There—a smile. A faint, bitter twist of the lips that shouldn't really be counted as a smile at all. "Because I know, now, that what I tried to convince myself for countless seasons was false is really true." She tilted her head to the side, resting it against the smooth wood, her hair trickling down over her shoulders. "I have no hope for happiness. Not true happiness, at any rate. Being here makes it all too clear that I never did have such hope, though I deluded myself into believing it was possible."

"There is always hope," he murmured.

She smiled again, and he found himself wondering how she could pack so much scorn into such a muted gesture. "There is not," she countered. "Unless, of course, you count the hope of peace while in the halls of Mandos." She closed her eyes, returning for a moment to a tragic figure carved of marble. "I don't, because I know there is no peace even there, for me."

"Why should you be so different from everyone else?"

She shook her head and stood up straight, pushing away from the trees. "Because I was a fool, and even the Valar themselves cannot undo the past."

"What, you were embarrassed once?"

A soft snort, a disdainful look, and she was walking, deep into the garden with sure, unwavering steps. "Embarrassment is nothing more than a part of every life. Achingly familiar to most, shameful to some. I've been embarrassed many times, especially when thinking on the one I left behind."

"You left a lover?"

She glanced sharply at him, then reached out to touch a small plant clinging tenaciously to the rocks in the silver darkness. The bloom was opened beneath her touch, the petals such a dark violet they appeared black until the center was struck by light, glowing silver, arching out in pale lavender veins. "Yes," she admitted at last. "A lover. Friends. The closest I had to family, and can ever hope to have."

"You're embarrassed that you left? So why did it take you so long to come back?"

"I _left_ because I had no other choice. I could not remain here, not as things were. Even now, when I alone know the truth, I find it hard to remain." She lightly traced the petals as she spoke, before moving abruptly away.

"But you will stay," he murmured, and though in truth a question, it came out more as a command… to his surprise.

She lifted a brow and gazed about the garden. "Why do you come here? It is a garden quite fitting to me—thriving in the dark, withering in the light. I tried too hard to become part of the bright light of day, I who wasaccustomed for centuries to traveling at night."

"My only true friend used to love this garden."

"The one who left you?" she asked softly. "I suggest you forget her. It is unlikely she is coming back."

"You came back."

Her smile again contained more bitterness than he could account for. "No. I _came_. I am not who I was… and I never can be her again, even if I wished to." She shook her head and began walking once more, surveying the plants, the blooms, the black shadows slicing into the silver path. "I wouldn't want to be."

"Why not?"

"The one I was could not survive here a day longer than she did. To return to that would surely be to die… and though I longed for it, I will not go seeking death."

"Well, thank Valar for that much, at least."

"Why?"

He shifted a bit uncomfortably as she stared at him. With the shadows gouging out her eyes she looked either like a giant bug or a partially rotted skull. Either way, the eerie light in here was clearly getting to him. "Because I think you a friend, though you keep me from becoming too close."

She smiled faintly. "Yes," she agreed. She looked around them for a moment longer, then motioned lightly at the door. "Go. Escape the darkness. Return to the light."

He took a step, hesitating to glance back. "Aren't you coming?"

"I have lived in darkness for too long. I rather find it suits me."

He hesitated a moment longer before stepping into the fire-lit corridor.


	14. Forget your head?

Sorry about the gap. Hopefully things will settle down with my new job, place, and schooling. Anyway, thanks for the reviews!

Iluvenis: There are a few things I'm not saying just yet, in the interets of retaining some interest. ;-)

Swasti: Well, she's been alone for the majority of her life, very few friends, a rather bleak existance, and she's resistant to it changing for the better, in the fear it will get much worse, instead.

NJ: I wasn't meaning to be so mysterious, merely trying to look at it a bit more through Elleri's eyes than anyone else's. It's a bit weird to think of one's self as so-and-so, instead of simply I or me. I didn't notice I did that... I'll keep that in mind in future chapters. I think this one is fairly well flagged, save in some parts where the dialog gets going, but with my writing you can follow a general rule: every other paragraph is person A, the rest person B. When there are more characters, I tend to lable more.

* * *

_**Chapter 14 Forget your head?**_

"Have you spoken to her?"

Elleri sighed, resting his forearms on the balcony railing. "Yes, of course… as much as it's possible to do."

Legolas had to smile at that as he stepped forward to join his brother at the railing which overlooked the royal gardens. "Yes." It was more difficult to get direct answers from her than Ada. After a moment the smile faded, and he shrugged. "I don't know what to say, Elleri, much less what to do."

"She is on the ragged edge of death, Legolas."

"She is not fading."

"No… not really," Elleri conceded, straightening. He pulled his circlet off to run a hand through his hair, gathering it at his nape before letting go. "But though her body goes on, strong as ever if not stronger, she is retreating into herself like she was at first."

"She was not so closed in at first," Legolas countered, leaning his hip against the stone as he faced Elleri. "It is only that you grew used to her ways that makes it seem she was different."

"She is different."

"I know. That's not what I was saying."

Elleri sighed, closing his eyes. "I care about her."

"I know you do."

"I fear she will leave, and I fear that she won't."

Legolas nodded, glancing down into the star-lit cleft. "I as well."

Elleri looked sharply at him. "Do you?"

With a faint wince, Legolas sighed, closing his eyes before replying. "Yes."

Elleri searched his eyes for a time and then blew out a deep breath. "It's funny, I suppose. After Rin I didn't expect to find such a friend again…"

"Ashes is hardly like Silrinil."

"No. They would likely despise each other, if put in a room together."

Legolas smiled faintly. "It would be an interesting confrontation, if I remember correctly."

Elleri's smile matched his, but he slowly shook his head. "No. Rin would have made up her mind, and believed she was right."

"And Ashes wouldn't?"

He inclined his head shortly in agreement. "But Ashes would say nothing. Rin would say what she believed and accept silence as admission, rather than tact or disinclination to argue such an obvious point."

Legolas shrugged a shoulder and glanced into the busy room behind them once more. "Perhaps. I didn't spend that much time with her."

"No. She was a bit younger than you, after all."

Legolas lifted an amused brow. "She was younger than you, El."

"Yes… but not much." Not enough to make their interests that different… at least not so different about the time she stopped tagging along behind her father, anyway.

"She was good practice for you, being an older brother for a change, wasn't she?"

Elleri smiled faintly. "I suppose so. She certainly needed someone who didn't try and tell her it would all be okay." As he had needed someone who needed him.

Legolas grimaced. "Yes… Ada can be a bit…"

"Yes."

Legolas was silent for a long time. Though they understood, neither felt comfortable leaving it at that. "Not that he doesn't sympathize…"

"He just expects everyone to have the same 'carry on' attitude that he has to have… that we all have to have, unfortunately. Sometimes I wish it were conceivable…"

"No, you don't. You like being expected to remain calm, the leader. Break down in private, weep when alone. It makes you seem stronger… I don't know if it's true. If bottling things up, ignoring the wounds that cross your soul in favor of the ones on your flesh…"

Elleri snorted. "As if we're expected to feel those."

For a moment Legolas's head bowed beneath the weight of a living a life that wasn't _real_. Then he shook it off, lifting his head almost defiantly, daring the pressure, the melancholy to try and take him once more. "I must admit I don't quite understand it," he mused after a few minutes. "When given the same injury, we're expected to get up and fight again, while our companion is carried back to the healing rooms."

"Of course the instant we collapse, they're half crazed trying to get us there in time. Woe to the world if we were lost, after all," Elleri muttered a bit bitterly, slouching against the railing once more.

They gazed at the various spots in the small area that they tended to stare at, then chuckled. "Well. Enough of that," Legolas declared, standing up. "What do you propose?"

"About our possibly solvable predicament, I assume?" Elleri asked, smiling as he straightened slightly to a posture his teachers wouldn't have gasped to see for its impropriety.

"Of course," Legolas agreed, turning around before leaning back against the railing once more.

"Well, I can't rightly say. You offered to put her with one of the leaders, or a different captain. That didn't work out so well."

"No," Legolas grimaced, paling slightly.

After a moment, Elleri continued. "And giving her to me is rather a distant possibility, while the problem more immediate."

"True."

With a sideways glance at Legolas, he let his curiosity at the assured tone divert him from the conversation for a moment. "At least…?"

"Eight months. Hathien is a bit behind you in his training, so it may be pushed off to next spring, or even fall."

Elleri inclined his head slightly. Far be it from him to insist he be given his captainship earlier than the elf who had been training just as long for it. Even if he was suited for it now. "What's a few months?"

"A great annoyance," Legolas muttered. "But necessary, unfortunately."

A quick smile. "So perhaps over a year. I think being a group leader would be far too calm for her."

"As do I. Else I would have suggested it earlier."

Elleri nodded. "I know."

Legolas smiled faintly and turned his back on the garden, looking into the hall. Well, what of it could be seen through the two inch space between the curtains. Before the conversation could resume, fingers slid between that space, pulling the curtain aside. One of the two more or less ceremonial guards entered, cautiously stepping only one step into the territory forbidden to all not living in the royal wing of the hall. "Yes?"

"What?" Elleri asked, then noted the intrusion. "Oh. What is it?" he demanded when Legolas's question had gone unanswered.

The guard bowed his head slightly. "Sorry, my princes, but your father bids you rejoin the feast. An envoy from Imladris has just arrived."

"Do we know how many?" Legolas asked, straightening quickly.

"At least two."

"Elladan and Elrohir?" he mused. "Thank you," he said a bit louder, dismissing the elf. "Well?"

"Yes, lets," Elleri agreed.

"You know, I think that's why we males have such a hard time dealing with females."

"They expect more words than we wish to give?" Elleri asked dryly. He rolled his eyes. "Legolas…"

Legolas chuckled softly as they made their way back to the hall. He reached up to make sure he hadn't removed his own circlet when he heard Elleri mutter and double back for his own. "Forget your head, Elleri?"

Elleri's mutter became a bit less… courteous.

By the time they were at the head table, the messenger was already in front of their father.

"I take it he isn't someone you know?" Elleri asked after a sidelong look at Legolas.

"No," Legolas agreed, a bit annoyed. "Just some messenger."

"But what of the other?"

Legolas glanced at his brother, then followed his line of sight, feeling slightly uneasy as soon as he saw who it was. "Glorfindel," he murmured.

"Really?" Elleri asked. As with so many others, the name was known, and so the elf was held in awe.

"Yes," Legolas agreed, making a faint motion at Glorfindel for him to join them. "Welcome to Mirkwood," he murmured, inclining his head slightly.

"Thank you, Legolas."

"Has something happened?"

"No, not at all. I'm simply here for a visit, assuming of course that your father is willing to have me." Glorfindel smiled slightly, inclining his head at the King, who glanced up from the letter he was reading.

"Of course, of course. Rooms will be arranged. Verine?"

"Of course, Ada," she murmured, inclining her head slightly. She rose gracefully from her place, leaving to find a servant and see to it that the room was fitting for their distinguished guest.

Glorfindel had watched her leave with a lifted brow. "I didn't know your sister resembled you so, Legolas."

"How would you?" he countered quietly. "Morsallien and Elleri are more alike than they are to either Verine or myself, however." He motioned at Elleri absently, and nodded at Morsallien, all the while trying to find Ashes in the crowd of elves at the other tables.

Glorfindel inclined his head to them, and then smiled at someone coming up behind the princes. "My lady."

"My lord," came the response, as Ashes stepped up, walking around Legolas and Elleri to place a hand on Glorfindel's cheek, which was reciprocated before she was pulled into a hug.

Glorfindel stepped back slightly, tipping her chin up to search her eyes. Anger darkened his own. "Why have you allowed this?"

"This is home," she murmured quietly.

"Home does not do this," he countered, his voice low.

"Mine does," she whispered, a faint, bitter smile touching her lips. "I wasn't here when your mission was announced."

"Because it was not," he murmured, frowning at her yet. "I came because I thought you might be interested in stories of your parents."

She recoiled slightly, her eyes widening as life—along with fear—burst into her dark eyes. "You know them?"

"I knew them, long ago. Well before you were born, I'm afraid. But I can see them in you… more than you realize," he murmured. "Though you do take after your father more, from what I can see."

"That she does," Thranduil agreed, having watched them.

"Ada?" Legolas asked, curiosity getting at him.

"It is none of your concern," Ashes broke in before either elder lord could. "Perhaps we should go somewhere else to speak?"

Glorfindel had to grin at that. "Just like your father," he teased. "You want the information right when it's offered, without a thought to food."

She tilted her head, then shrugged, not in the least embarrassed. "With good reason," she mused. "You've already eaten this eve."

He lifted a brow.

She smiled and brushed a bit of waybread from his cloak, then tapped her nose. "Meat and pine nuts as well, at least."

He blinked. "Your nose is quite sensitive."

"I've trained it well," she murmured dryly.

"Ah. Centuries of sniffing out foraging?"

"Something like that," she agreed with a chuckle. "So, shall we?"

"If your King is agreeable to my rude absence on my first evening, yes."

"By all means, Lord Glorfindel. Take her under your cloak."

"As I would have, had I known," Glorfindel murmured, an understanding passing between them. "And I shall, from here on."

"You feel beholden to me?"

"No. Nor to your parents. But I knew them, as I doubt you've had the chance. I also don't doubt but that you've had questions."

"Naturally. But some day I shall know the answers."

"Perhaps. But _some day_ may be very far off. I am here, now, and at your disposal."

"Then let us go."


	15. The path the dead take

I'm just going to give up on updating properly. This is my first chance to get online in a week--the rest of the time it's been work and sleep the whole time. Then school's coming. Joy.

Iluvenis: Maybe this will clear things up a bit... and maybe it'll make it worse.

Swasti: Where was Legolas snubbed?

LJP: Ashes and Glorfindel share something that is beyond anyone else, because no one else is left of it. I realize that's a bit cryptic, so I'll hedge. Glorfindel knew her parents, and recognized her for who she was when they first met.

* * *

**_Chapter 15 The path the dead take_**

When the low murmur of foreign conversation died away, Legolas glanced back at them curiously. Ashes and Glorfindel had been talking, quietly, almost since they had set off a week ago. To hear them fall silent was a shock, especially when the terrain was fairly easy going. Of course, it was going to get a bit difficult…

His thoughts stilled when he saw her, how perfectly still she had become. Glorfindel was watching her in uneasy confusion. He turned his horse, and waited for her to look up. Her eyes were nearly black when she did. "Orcs," she murmured softly.

He lifted a brow, and she tapped her nose. A moment later, a thicker breeze drifted up from the valley below them, and he could smell them as well. An orc's smell wasn't something one would want to know, much less endeavor to describe, but it was something no one could forget, once they first noticed it. For some, the terror of the creatures was enough to block out some senses.

He didn't know if that was good or not…

He blanched, glancing up to see if she had—

She had. She froze, then leapt from her horse to gaze at the ground below them. A few tense moments later, they could hear the unmistakable sound of blades striking each other, and the occasional horrible sound of someone gasping, groaning, a scream—

Elleri and two other elves broke from the forest, running towards the river, blood mingling with blood, red and black, dripping and splashed. An arrow zoomed from the cover of the woods, bringing one of the survivors down. Elleri turned, firing quickly if a bit awkwardly, as his sword wasn't released to do so. A harsh cry, and no more arrows came.

"Bows!" Legolas cried. "Fire into the wood!" He gazed around for an easy way down as the orcs began bursting from the deep wood into the slight space between forest and water, large crude blades held up in ready.

"Ri!" the strangled cry came for an instant, then someone _jumped_ from the cliff, diving into the water far below.

The orcs seemed to find that amusing—the archers above couldn't stop them from getting to her, though they didn't know it _was_ a her, and they swarmed along the river, waiting for their prey to surface. Elleri and Ferien were still fighting, but slowing down rather obviously. Legolas found a path that wouldn't kill them, and took most of the elves with him, ordering his best archers to remain. From the path, he saw Ashes appear from the water far upstream, slipping silently into the woods, coming up behind the orcs. Before the elves with him reached the ground, she had dived into the fray, blades arching in wild and furious paths, beheading and slashing, sweeping and destroying with a savage intensity that startled the orcs for a moment before enraging them.

To watch a good fighter was a thing of beauty, but she was cloaked in black—head to toe as her opponents' blood drenched her as she passed through them. By the time they could help, there was little left to do, and their horses trod over layers of dead.

"Ri," Ashes murmured, dropping to her knees beside him where he had eventually fallen just moments before she had decided the battle. She tilted his head up, looking deeply into him. "Where are the others?" she asked, grasping his shirt tightly, cradling his head so gently.

"Fallen… mostly dead," he rasped, trying to get up.

"Shh," she murmured softly, holding him down easily. "How far in?"

"A few minutes walk," he replied, before falling limp against her with a groan.

Legolas jerked his head, ordering the elves without words into the wood, knowing the orcs wouldn't have stayed to despoil them when there were more to kill. "How bad is it?" he asked, not getting a reply.

"Too much blood loss," Ashes murmured, matter-of-factly as she removed her tunic, cutting a strip from the thick material to work as a bandage. When the worst wound was thus staunched, she whistled sharply, a bird-call which brought her horse to her quickly, denying him the pleasure he had been indulging in—stamping the orcs into dust. Their black blood was merely a sheen to his coat.

She got up, lifting Elleri, and her horse knelt without pause for her to burden him. Once upon his back, she looked at Legolas.

"Go. Don't stop for anyone. Ride up the damned steps if you have to," he added, as the others—even Glorfindel, who had been all but sewn to her hip since his arrival—had gone to search out any other survivors. Ferien was injured as well, but his wound was a minor one, as Elleri had pushed him back a bit, using him to shield his back as he fought the coming waves… as long as he could.

She inclined her head slightly and shifted Elleri in her arms, before horse and rider spun around, black hair flying behind them as they all but flew back to the hall.

A three day ride, at their normal pace.

She should be there by sundown.

After saying a quick prayer for his brother he found an elven leg in the midst of orc parts, and shoved the putrid mess aside to recover his fallen patrol member. When he was done, he heard someone approaching. "How many?" he asked, looking up at Glorfindel.

"All but four… and we shall likely lose two of those on the ride back. Perhaps a third, as well. I sent them on."

Legolas inclined his head slightly. "And the others?"

Glorfindel sighed wearily. "They are on their horses," he murmured at last, and called a horse forward, helping Legolas get the fallen elf upon it. "I will guide him back. Go."

Legolas shook his head. "I cannot leave you alone."

"I will join the procession," Glorfindel countered. "Go find the living. Guide them back, if you can."

Legolas glanced sharply at him, but didn't say anything, and after a moment, nodded shortly. "Thank you."

Glorfindel nodded. "You are his brother _first_, no matter what is asked of you."

With a faint, bitter smile Legolas nodded and mentally raced over the land they were facing. He knew the path the dead would take to return, but there was a faster road for those who knew it and were unburdened. If he pressed, he could beat them all back… with the possible exception of Ashes, as she had not only gotten the first start, but had one of the best horses. Even overburdened he would press most hard to follow.

He passed a few of the horses as he went, but didn't pause, nor was it expected. They had to go only as fast as their wounded companions could endure. He had no such restriction, and in its stead, a duty to reach the King to inform him as quickly as possible of what had happened… and to give him the information he needed to send out more soldiers to deal with this threat, in the case that they had not wholly dealt with it.

The doors were starting to close when he came upon them, so it wasn't the normal heart-wrenching pause to get through, and he followed echoing hooves up stairs, down corridors, the way made easier by the person passing through just out of sight.

"What is the meaning of this?"

He growled at the question and pressed forward, his appearance stilling many as yet unasked questions. "Quickly, she-elf!" he snarled at the healer, thrusting the doors open himself, catching Citron's head to lead him into the room, making sure Ashes was ducked down enough first. She met his eyes, her own wide and dark, as she handed Elleri down to him before getting down herself. She snapped her fingers at a passing elf and gave responsibility of their horses over without a word, returning to Elleri's bedside, grabbing a cloth to wash him when the healers moved too slowly for her liking.

Hesitantly he laid his hand on hers, drawing her gently back. "Despite your no doubt over-sufficient knowledge of binding wounds on your own, perhaps it's best to let them work."

"Then let them _work,_" she snarled, tossing the rag down.

He debated for a moment, looking at her wide, almost frightened eyes. "Ashes, get Ada, would you?"

She hesitated for a long moment, then ran from the room.

One of the healers sighed in obvious relief—which he cut short by stepping closer, checking on Elleri himself. He knew it annoyed them, but this was _his brother_. He would be right here until he woke…

He _would_ wake.

"Legolas? What happened?"

He answered without turning to see his father, watching his brother's chest rise with breath after slowed breath. "Orc attack."

"But…"

"He wanted to take a small section of the patrol around the lowland at that point… it had been quiet, no signs of spiders… all was quiet, then the smell of orcs, then the sounds of battle… Elleri is one of five survivors when last I could know."

"Of how many?"

Legolas sighed. "Fourteen. I brought two of the groups along."

"How many orcs were there?"

"I don't know the full count. Where Elleri and the two still able to flee made their last stand, there were over sixty."

"Three elves dealt with sixty orcs unaided?"

"They were not unaided… and it was two, as one was quickly downed with an arrow, even before we could see the orcs. The archers did what they could from the point, and Ashes—" it was only then he realized she had slipped back into the room. "She killed many of them alone."

Thranduil's brows lifted. "Alone?"

"She was death embodied," he murmured softly, looking at the elf now, seeming so small curled up like that on the chair, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them.

Thranduil looked at her, and sighed. "Ashes."

She jerked, her head snapping up at the command. "Sire?"

"Get cleaned up," he tilted his head at a partitioned section of the healing rooms. "You, too, Legolas."

Legolas hesitated for a moment before leaving his place, moving over to the washroom, scrubbing quickly, taking an odd-sized pair of leggings and slightly too-small undershirt from the shelf to wear before heading back into the room. Ashes hadn't yet appeared, which didn't surprise him. Skin was easier to clean of orc-blood than hair. His father was gone.

The chairs they had used, which had been covered with blood and mud, had been removed, and replaced with clean versions more suited to the elves they would hold. Other rooms had been opened up in waiting for the other survivors… and to deal with the dead when they arrived.

He sank into one of the chairs, pulling it so it shielded him from passing eyes, and curled up a bit, digging himself into the corner so he could rest his head against the back without craning his neck, legs drawn up on the seat with him.

He watched Elleri breathe.

"Did they say anything?"

He started at the voice, and looked up to see an unfamiliar elf gazing at Elleri. A moment later, he placed her, and found himself staring. She glanced up, catching him with her delayed question. "No."

She sighed and angled her chair as he had his, sitting for a moment before giving in, bringing her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She glanced at him. "What?"

"You look very different right now."

"Oh?" she asked, sounding a bit ragged.

"Yes," he murmured. In the plain white gown she looked much younger. Less knowing. More innocent. Her hair was drying, slowly, and curling into gentle waves as it went. The pose alone was enough to change her, of course, making her seem defenseless. Often in the first days of her return to Mirkwood, he had thought she reminded him of someone. As tended to happen, being around her had driven the nagging sense of remembrance away. The feeling was back, but this time it seemed to pull him in another direction. Unwilling, or perhaps unable to go into all of that, he settled for the most obvious and least likely to cause problems. "Your hair is curling."

"It does that, unless I comb it while wet. There are no combs here." Her words were quiet, soft, as if the harsh, controlled edge that made her such a mysterious and perhaps dangerous elf had been broken the instant her blades were sheathed. It had never happened before, in his presence, though no doubt she had softened around others. He had no idea how she could get so close to them without softening.

"Why not let it curl?" Several of the 'ladies' did their best to get such curls, and wouldn't dream of forcing it straight.

"Why? It's harder to deal with, and worse on a battlefield."

"Is that why you keep your hair short?"

She just glanced at him, and he let it drop, admitting it was a stupid thing to be asking now.

"Has he awakened?"

Legolas glanced back, peering around the edge of his chair to see his father standing just inside the door. "Is he expected to?"

"Yes. Just blood loss, they said. Nothing major, but by far plenty. He got here quickly enough."

"As far as I know, he hasn't stirred."

Thranduil nodded and drew up another chair. "They said to expect him to awake for a short while fairly soon, before he rests again until well."

"His way of reassuring himself he's still alive, and coming back."

Thranduil inclined his head slightly. "Elowar and Terine volunteered to check on things."

He nodded slightly. "Did you give my patrol over to Hathien?"

"No. But your patrol isn't on duty for another four weeks, or am I off?"

"Five weeks," Legolas murmured. "But there are minor things…"

"They can handle the mandatory minor things on their own."

He inclined his head slightly, willing, for the moment, to give control over. "Verine and Morsallien?"

"Will be controlling the curiosity and information in our places, for now. After the feast they shall no doubt join us."

"Have any of the others arrived?"

"Not yet. We will be informed."

With a nod he leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes.

A long while later a ragged breath caught his ears and made him open his eyes. A glint of moisture snagged his gaze, as she drew another shaking breath. He waited to see if she would compose herself quickly, watching as she closed her eyes and shuddered. Another tear fell, followed quickly by a third. He unfolded himself from his chair and rounded the bed, hesitating again over her shoulder.

He closed his eyes and let out a long breath, then acted before he could reconsider his coming actions… _again_. Before she knew what he was going to do—or maybe even that he was there—he had her settled on his lap in what had been her chair. She was tense for a long moment, clearly fighting with herself about whether she should fight him or allow him to give her this slight comfort. With a sudden sigh she slumped against him, curling into him as he could easily remember his sisters doing when they were quite young and ran to him in tears. She was curled up tightly, her entire body pressed to his chest until she began to uncoil slightly.

Time passed slowly, as they waited, measured only by the slow relaxation of the elf curled against him. Her tears were spent, her body no longer shook, her breath was easy… but she didn't move away, and he didn't ask her to. In fact, when the day began to wear upon him, he set his chin upon her head. She stirred slightly, but only to duck down a bit, making the move more comfortable for them both.

Verine and Morsallien had come in, silently, and they waited, leaving only briefly to learn and then to tell him how the other elves were, now that they had arrived. Glorfindel had been right—two had given up their hold on life during the return trip. One was very close to doing so, his wife and brother staying beside him. The fourth would survive, as long as he remained as tenacious as he always had been in the past. Ferien, of course, would be fine with a few days of rest… well, he would then be out of the healing rooms, at least. His injuries would keep him out of the active patrol for a time.

Glorfindel had come in, and stood at the foot of the bed for a time before approaching, peering at Elleri until, with a nod, he was satisfied. He glanced at the dozing Ashes, a faint frown pulling golden brows together before he shook his head and left, requesting someone be sent to inform him when any of the elves' situation changed.

Ashes began stretching, and glanced up at him before continuing her stretch.

"Nothing."

She nodded. "I would have awakened."

He inclined his head slightly.

She slid from his lap to the edge of the bed, reaching up to run a hand through her hair, absently combing her fingers through it, resettling it where it had been flattened against his chest. She gazed at Elleri for a time, and then reached up to brush a bit of his hair back, out of his face.

He stirred slightly, making her freeze. His breathing changed, a deep intake of breath before his eyelashes flickered against his cheeks, attempting the monumental task of opening. He slowly focused on her, a slight frown giving way to a smile as he reached up, touching her cheek lightly. "You came back."

Legolas frowned, very worried about his brother… well, no more than he had been from the first moment he heard blades meeting in the wood below his patrol, but physical ailments were easier to deal with than mental ones.

"Elleri…"

"Rin?" he grinned, then remembered something, and frowned. "Why didn't you say goodbye?"

Ashes closed her eyes, swallowing heavily. "Elleri…"

He tilted his head. "You look… harsher."

A faint, rueful smile lifted one corner of her lips. She shook her head slightly.

"Rin? What's wrong?" he started to sit up, but between his pain and the hand she pressed against his uninjured shoulder he settled back down without making it. "What is it?"

"You're stubborn, aren't you?" she asked softly, shaking her head again.

"Silrinil… when did you get back?"

She sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. She bent, kissing him on the cheek, the pendant she had worn since her father's death swinging out of the gown, set beside a mithril key. "The eve before the trials," she whispered, then lightly traced his jaw. "Get well, won't you?"

"Will you still be here?" he asked, lifting a brow.

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose."

He frowned. "My head is a bit muzzy. Speak plainly."

She sighed. "Silrinil as you knew her died over thirteen hundred years ago. Ashes is what came of her, is what is left, and she will be here tomorrow."

"Ashes?" he asked, frowning. He tilted his head and slowly nodded. "You are, aren't you?"

She rolled her eyes but nodded.

"Ash… Why didn't you say goodbye?"

"I did," she murmured, before getting up. She noted the wide eyes focused on her, and sighed, shaking her head. "I shall inform Glorfindel on my way, Uncle," she murmured, bending to kiss Thranduil's brow.

"Thank you, dear one."

She inclined her head slightly and drifted from the room, a ghost of times nearly forgotten.


	16. Once considered beautiful

I'm sorry, guy. Things have been crazy. The only time I was able to get on a computer they were ones without outside internet access. This keyboard is also wierd--it tries to delete every fourth letter. Thankfully I already had the chapter up, or I wouldn't bother now. So I'll just apologize for any unexpected errors before the chapter break.

Madrone: If this chapter doesn't help clear up some confusion, let me know!

LJP: The title Uncle is past life... This chapter should finish any uncertainties.

Iluvenis: Okay, I'm still not giving away the plot, but you read my stories too well. ;-)

iria-86: there are quite a few chapters left for this story, at least. If the chapter doesn't unconfuse you, let me know.

Aglarendis: Mind if I ask which site? If you remember, anyway--it seems like it's been ages since I was last online. ;-)

Animir: Legolas is going to stay that way for quite a while... he's just so cute when he's all puzzled. LOL

* * *

_**Chapter 16 Once considered beautiful**_

With pursed lips he fit the key in the lock, turning it before pressing the door slowly open. He was struck with how eerie it was, to step into the past so easily. The illusion was soon spent, however, when he found the room was occupied. She looked at him for a long moment, and allowed him to look at her.

What he could remember of Silrinil told him she had visibly aged since then, as elves of their respective ages didn't often do. The soft curves of an innocent youth had been spent, a harder, stronger countenance in its place. "You've had a hard life."

"You knew that."

"Yes. But not that it was _you._"

She shrugged. "It was easier than it would have been here."

"_Why?"_ he asked, looking around the room as he struggled to understand. "You…"

"Were given anything I could have wanted, for years," she murmured softly. "I was content."

"Then why leave?" He cast himself into a chair.

"Because contentment wasn't enough, Legolas. I wanted to be happy."

The words struck at him. "And you weren't ever happy here?" he asked, struggling to focus.

"I was. But it didn't last."

"So you just left? You'd been here since…"

"All of memory," she murmured softly. "I wasn't more than a few years when they came here."

"No," he agreed. "But you haven't answered why you left."

"I wanted to wander."

"No one just suddenly _wants_ to wander."

"You're wrong. I decided in a matter of hours."

He stared at her for a long moment, then snorted when he couldn't see any sign of deception in her eyes. "You were somewhat…"

"Flighty?" she suggested, sitting down the edge of her bed, one arm wrapping loosely around the nearby post. "I was young, foolish."

"Foolish for leaving?"

She shook her head at once. "No. _That_ was the first wise decision I'd made… perhaps in my entire life."

He considered her, all the things he had done, had said. "What of your mate?"

She froze, glancing up at him almost fearfully. "What?"

He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, bringing a leg up to his chest. "You lost your mate. I… I suppose I shouldn't have asked, but I was curious." When she lifted a brow, he winced. "Am curious," he amended. "You have carried such strong pain for so long… I don't understand why you didn't come back. You would have been protected here."

"Which is why I _couldn't_ be here. I couldn't be protected from heartbreak, Legolas. Most don't survive it. If I had not had a distraction, had only to confront it day after day, I would not have lasted long. Even now, with all the strength time has lent me, I find it hard to be here."

"He was _here_?" He looked up at her in shock. "But…"

"Perhaps I could keep a secret?" she suggested.

He frowned. "I don't know…"

She nodded with a sigh, her fingers tracing absent patterns through the intricate carvings on the post of her bed. "I know. I was something of a cross between your sisters and a hall 'lady', wasn't I? Not as annoying, yet not as… real." She frowned at the word she'd settled on, but didn't speak up to change it.

He understood, and nodded slightly, before shrugging. "That was my opinion, though even then I knew it to be somewhat uninformed."

"I can only look back on that time through my own eyes," she murmured, shrugging.

They fell into silence, which was not as uncomfortable as some of their silences had been, but it wasn't _comfortable,_ either. He finally scrubbed a hand over his eyes. "I don't understand why you hate me."

"I…" She stilled, stopped her words and finally sighed, her fingers stilling. "I won't lie. Whatever games I've played with words, I've not yet lied. I do sometimes hate you. But it is not for anything you can control, can change."

"Only sometimes? I got the impression it was nearly every time we spoke," he muttered bitterly.

She shook her head. "No. But you were right—I did fear you."

He frowned. "Why? Did you expect _I_ would figure out who you were… well, really, who you _are_?"

She took the time to study the richly decorated room before answering. "Yes, I suppose I did. Thranduil knew, of course. I went to him when I arrived, saw him first. I was always somewhat in awe of you—you were older, and so clearly beyond us… But it was so long ago, and we were so young… I didn't expect Elleri would have thought about me much, and I was not really that close to your sisters."

"He has thought about you. Often." He shifted a bit. "For years he secluded himself in that melancholy garden you seemed to find so wonderful."

She smiled, an sardonic little smile. "The follies of youth may lead to a wiser heart. That garden is again my favorite, though my sense of irony is not lacking. It fits me better now, than it did. I find it's dark blooms of interest, of beauty, because I find myself wishing to compare myself to them… It was something of a shock to find Elleri leaving those wretched white flowers on the bench."

"In your memory. You _did_ like those, didn't you?"

"They were considered beautiful," she shrugged.

He nodded. "They still are."

She tilted her head, and looked at the vase sitting on a small, otherwise barren table—long since dry and devoid of blooms, as it would remain. "Not by me."

"Nor me."

She smiled faintly and closed her eyes, leaning against the bedpost, her temple resting against the gnarled carving.

He glanced around the room, and saw that little had changed since Elleri had burst in the morning she disappeared. "How was the room kept up? He locked it."

"You have a key?"

He shook his head. "I know where he keeps his."

"Mmm. I had always asked Nari to lock the door when she was done, and only to come once a week. I suppose she continued it, as it was thus when I arrived."

"So she's known since the beginning?"

"No." She shook her head slightly, letting her eyes wander the paths mapped in a tapestry hanging over his left shoulder. "I was already in the room I am now before she would have come to clean, if she kept the old schedule. And if not, she was always known for being discrete. She likely spoke to your Ada to find out why things had moved slightly, if she noticed at all."

He let his head fall to the seat's back and continued to study her. Valar, how she had changed! Still, it was nice to know a _bit_ of the solution to Ashes's mystery. "Why Ashes?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why the name _Ashes_ in particular? Why not admit who you were when you returned? Why fear us, Silrinil? We who had been practically family since your father died?"

Closing her eyes on a sigh, she turned in her seat, draping her legs over the chair's arm. "The reason for the name itself was a rather childish one, and need not repeating. As for admitting who I was… I did not wish to. Whenever I wandered, I was Ashes, and have been Ashes for so long I can almost look upon Silrinil as a separate person, as if I knew her once, long ago… rather than _was_ her."

"Are her."

She shrugged. "In a way, I suppose. But I have changed so much from she who was left behind the moment I left this room, that it hardly seems right to call myself by that name."

"Then why not a different _elven_ name?"

"Why? When wandering a name means nothing. Here, I had one I didn't want. Why not use the one I felt I had earned?"

"You earned the name _Ashes_? What on middle-earth—"

"Legolas!" she interjected sharply, cutting his tirade short. "Enough."

Running a hand through his hair with a sigh, he considered her for a long moment, and then nodded. "Very well. For now, at least."

She laughed bitterly. "For now," she repeated, eyes dark, voice ominous with foreboding.

"But…"

"What?" she sighed.

"You didn't answer _why_ you didn't want us to know you."

"I didn't want to be known as 'The Lady Silrinil' because I am no longer who I was. I would never wish to return to that, either."

"Then why not return as Rin?"

Her breath sucked in on a pained hiss, and she glanced sharply away. "I did not expect to be welcome, Legolas. I was relieved when the magic of the doors still recognized me as belonging within, but stone remembers more than people, and without the bias of unspoken years."

"But surely Ada's time with you would have calmed those fears?"

"I did not wish to take the place of a _lady_, Legolas," she growled, voice rising as her eyes flashed. "I _never_ wanted to be a lady, even then. Now I _know_ I was more like them than I could have ever wished, but now…" she laughed bitterly. "I think it safe to say I am no longer like them. The lessons I learned here held me in good stead. I've learned more, seen much…"

"And continue to evade the question. _Why_?"

"I knew my departure, my sudden flight hurt Elleri and Thranduil. I expected the rest of you would at the least be affronted on their behalf, as they had given me so much love through the years, accepting me as one of you when my father followed my mother to Mandos. Coming back to Mirkwood was difficult enough, Legolas. I did not need to deal with the old relationships as well."

"As well as dealing with returning to the place you lost the one your soul bound with?"

"I think that was already covered," she murmured a bit tensely.

He noted it with a frown. "You will not speak of him, will you?"

"There is no reason to do so."

"But there is, if it continues to pain you so much after more than thirteen centuries."

She shook her head. "No, Legolas. There is nothing to talk about."

"Then he doesn't exist? He didn't die? Nothing ever happened?"

"Our souls met, and our paths parted. I could not follow him that time. I did not want to."

"So instead you ran away from Elleri, who had helped you through your father's death?"

With a great sigh, she nodded. "Yes. I did."

He shook his head, not quite believing all he was hearing could be the truth, but not finding any hint of deceit or deception within her. "But _why?_ He was your best friend…"

"My only friend," she countered quietly, now staring blindly into the fire.

He studied her for a time, trying to piece the fragments of memory of Silrinil with the elf he had gotten to know much better in such a short time… That he hadn't known his brother's best friend after over a thousand years of opportunity as well as he knew one solider he hadn't known for a complete two years bothered him greatly.

He could well remember how the two had become friends. Elleri had been upset by the way he was treated by others—the activities of a prince are more stringent and monitored than those of the other youths, and teasing often ensued, though it was subtle enough that even if his pride had allowed him to complain, nothing could have been done. So he often wandered through the dressing and bathing room that connected their chambers, sleeping at the foot of Legolas's bed, sometimes begging a story of adventure or mayhem.

It was on one such night that a piercing scream rent the air, followed by a pleading tone spouting words he couldn't understand. He had sighed and rolled over, bringing a pillow over his head, but found himself looking directly into his little brother's sky blue eyes.

"Aren't you going to do anything?"

"Why?"

"She… she's had a nightmare, hasn't she?"

"I rather suspect she's remembering seeing him die, Elleri," he muttered, a bit cold and callous, he realized only when looking back.

Elleri had flinched. "Shouldn't you do something?"

Legolas simply sighed and covered his head. He didn't bother to explain that every time he _had_ tried, she would look up at him with those dark, haunted eyes, eyes that had seen far too much for one so young, and prattle off some desperate question in that language she shared with her father, the tongue he didn't understand, growing more and more agitated as he didn't answer her. He had realized fairly early on that his silence made things worse, but as he didn't know what to say, he was at a loss.

He had thankfully learned better by the time his sisters graced them with their presences. Elleri had learned early—he had, for some reason, either youth or natural gift, a better understanding of what females needed.

Though Elleri hadn't known, he had crept down the hall when the panicked foreign tongue had stopped, and had seen them curled together on the covers, looking as if they belonged there together.

"He _is_ dead, isn't he?"

"Elleri? What happened?"

He shook his head, holding up his hands to calm her irrational moment of panic. "No, no. Elleri is fine. I was just curious to know if your mate was dead."

She lifted a brow as she relaxed back. "It isn't clear?"

"Under normal circumstances, I would say it is, but it seems nothing with you is 'under normal circumstances'." When she didn't seem inclined to reply, he sighed. "Keep your secrets, then, if you will but answer me one thing."

A long pause. "What?"

"Is it Elleri?" He could imagine it was. They had _always_ been close—at least, since her father died—and it would explain why she had felt she needed to leave… though he couldn't imagine _anyone_, much less Elleri, giving up the one to whom their soul was bound.

She stared at him for a long moment, and then a tremulous smile touched her lips. "No, Prince. Your brother is safe from me." Swiftly she was on her feet, and motioned at the door, pulling the coverlet from the bed before moving to the niche carved into the wall. She wrapped herself tightly in the cover, her head tucked down, hair denying him a look at her face.

With uneasy uncertainty, he left the room, locking it behind him.


	17. Make her return

Hi all, sorry this has been so delayed. I've lost count of how long it's been... too many hours of working. I, of course, work the hours the computer lab is open, save my day off, when I'm not sap enough to accept someone else's hours.

Anyway, thanks for still reading, and I promise I'll try to do a bit better about updating!

brownie24: They didn't realize it was her for a few reasons. Her physical appearance is a bit different--she's older, and her face has lost some of its youth. She doesn't dress the same, and certainly doesn't act the same. Ellerionly sees her when she's closer to what she used to be--dressed properly, hair unbound, face softened by worry and fatigue. Legolas only noticed her in passing, before-- as Elleri's friend, as the daughter of one of his father's advisors.

madrone: You're my kind of reader. I generally figure after all this reading I want it to feel worth the effort and time. ;-) All shall be explained eventually, though if you have questions that you think should have been cleared up by now, do let me know (and ask).

emrys: the tongue will be explained eventually. I'm not going to spoil it by explaining... though I don't know if there's been enough, yet, for you to get it by re-reading unless you're like a few of my readers who can aparently read my mind and jump to improbable but perfectly correct conclusions based on small hints.

Iluvenis: You're close, as ever. Glorfindel is clueless, though.

LJP: No, Ashes isn't bound to Elleri, save as an old friend.

Animir: Yeah, but it's still fun to confuse him. Thanks for waiting... you want to go to school for me? I hate getting up so blasted early for a class I'm not getting credit for...

Aglarendis: Thank you for the vote of confidence! I got a lot of flack when I first started posting this one. I can honestly see their point in certain aspects of the story, but I'm glad the telling of it is interesting enough to keep your attention. I'm glad you like my OCs-- I've come across what you mentioned on occassion, and I find it rather confusing, then quite annoying. Legolas has been a bit harder, really, as he's rather set in my mind and becomes clearer with every story. I can change his age, experience, family... but he stays essentially the same. I don't know if that makes it easier or harder to read, but he's easier to write.

* * *

**_Chapter 17 Make her return_**

He glanced over his shoulder when the door opened without a knock. He lifted a brow in question, and she shrugged. He glanced over her attire. "Not wearing your usual black?"

"As if this shade of green is so far from it," she countered tartly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Did he send for you?" she asked abruptly after a few minutes spent in silence.

"Yes."

She nodded and waited quietly for a few minutes more, then swore rather darkly under her breath and strode straight into the office behind the study.

Legolas's brow lifted, but he followed, feeling rather like a child in those moments—stepping into forbidden territory, and not so soothed by following one who was apparently comfortable there as perhaps he should have been. Of course, it _was_ familiar to _her_. She had followed her father _everywhere_ after her mother had died, and he had been the king's best friend and most trusted advisor. She no doubt knew more of the secrets to the 'royal' quarters of the halls than he did.

"I wondered how long you would wait, child," his father murmured, looking up from a document on his desk.

"Enough of the games, Thranduil," she muttered sharply, crossing her arms over her chest as she paced up to the desk, stopping only when her thighs pressed against the edge. "Why did you call us here?"

"We need to discuss this now, Silrinil."

Legolas got the feeling that he was missing something… which wasn't really all that helpful. He _knew_ he was missing _a lot_, but neither one before him seemed to really even remember he was there.

Her eyes flashed in anger.

Thranduil noted it with a lifted brow and set the document down, taking a moment to dry his quill before resting it lightly beside the paper so the tip wouldn't be ruined by some random accident. "It _is_ your name. I will not spend centuries calling you by a name you were not given."

"I may not have been _given_ the name Ashes, but I took it." Her response was short, and quite acidic. He hadn't heard anyone speak like that to his Ada since… well, since her father. He had looked up to the other elf, even though he was often shocked at his words or tone when addressing the King.

"You like it?"

Her jaw tightened, and she suddenly jerked away, pacing over to the side. "It is _mine_." Her voice sunk on the last word, a furious possessiveness that seemed rather out of place, in his opinion, considering they were discussing her _wandering_ name over her given one.

"Surely with what Glorfindel has told you of your parents you would honor them by keeping the name they gave you?"

"You know not what he has told me," she harshly replied, all but spitting the cutting words.

"No. I don't," he agreed quietly.

"You know nothing of them." She shifted uncomfortably, as if she couldn't remain immobile while so furious.

"I know enough. Your father was just as silent as you have become, which is _why_ I find the name he gave you a matter of such importance."

"They are dead, Thranduil. Neither you nor I can change that. What should it bother them if I choose to be forgotten?"

He sighed, and leaned back in his chair. After a moment he shook his head and let out a snort of laughter. "I didn't know your mother well, but you always used to remind me of her."

She didn't stir.

"You are more like him, now, than you could ever know. While he was recovering from losing your mother," the second part he added softly, watching her carefully for any sign he'd touched her.

Still nothing.

"If you remain here, you will do so as Silrinil, Lady of the court."

"Ada!" Legolas interjected before he knew he was intending to.

She glanced at him before Thranduil could open his mouth for any response. "You object?"

He didn't look at her. "I object to such an ultimatum, knowing how stubborn you are. I would prefer having you here, as Ashes, than gone as the Lady Silrinil."

"But you don't object to forcing me to take my old title?" she asked, bitterness dripping from the words.

"It _is_ your title, whether you want it or not," he snapped, glancing over at her. He stilled, realizing only _now_ why she had reminded him of someone else. He sank into a chair, the move incidentally creating a much better angle for comparison. "I'd forgotten," he murmured. Now standing over her shoulder was an elf with her hair, her eyes, the same strong, stubborn jaw… with a sword he hadn't seen since she left. Silrinil looked almost as a female version of her father, distinguished only by the slight inheritance of her mother in her looks—her features weren't as close to being nearly squared off, and her eyes were tilted just slightly, giving her an ever softer look, no matter the expression. "You even have his expression," he mused, making her look over her shoulder. He'd remembered her _father_, of course, but simply hadn't realized how much she resembled him. He should have figured it out sooner.

She smiled fondly, reaching up to the painting to trace the line of her father's jaw, her fingers hovering just over the material of his painted cloak. He too, had usually worn dark colors.

He _really_ should have figured it out _much_ sooner. He mentally snorted. _He_ hadn't even figured it out. Elleri, mostly out of it and pained, had been the one to place her as the one of his memories.

With a colossal sigh she dropped into the other chair that faced his father's desk, and inclined her head. "Very well, Uncle. You win. Lady Silrinil has returned." Her lips were pursed as she snapped her gaze from the portrait behind his desk to him. "But I will remain as I have been."

"I wouldn't dream of forcing you from Service. You seem to enjoy it… and I hear I have you to thank for my son's life."

"Thank your queen for that, Sire," she murmured, getting to her feet once more. "Is that quite all?"

"No. I would like you to dine with us when not required to do so with the others of the patrol."

Eyes closed, head slightly bowed, her hands fisted tightly as she fought to control either her voice or her tongue. "And I suppose you would have me wear a dress and return to my old room?"

"You may dress as you desire… but I would like to see you returned to your place with us, my girl."

"Thranduil… I…" she shook her head. "I… I _can't_… or I…" Legolas, from his seat, could see a moment of fear, of panic flicker in her eyes.

For being such a strong, independent elf, she certainly had her difficulties with certain issues, and they had, unfortunately, somehow all coalesced into a brief time of torment he wouldn't wish on anyone.

"If you _can't_, Silrinil, then you do not belong here."

Legolas looked from her defeated posture to Thranduil's impassive face. "Ada? Are you—"

"Enough, Legolas."

Clenching his jaw so tightly his teeth squeaked in protest, Legolas managed not to respond, but it was a very close thing. He stared at the portrait behind the desk, stared into his mother's eyes, and heard her gentle words in his head. She had often advised him to hold his tongue around his father, especially when he had this particular _look_ in his eyes. It said, to any who knew the dangers of it, that he would get his way, no matter anyone's objections, and would most _certainly_ not appreciate them if they in any way expressed those objections… especially should the expressing of them interfere with or delay him in getting his way.

Silrinil whirled around, staring up at the portrait of her father once more. As he had done for more than two thousand years, he stared sternly from the portrait, so much ancient knowledge and pain in his eyes as he studied the workings of a kingdom of wood-elves. She murmured a few words in her unknown tongue under her breath, then straightened, head up, shoulders squared. She turned to face Thranduil with cold eyes. "Very well. I will be making some changes in my room, and _you_ have naught to do with any suitors who might be interested in the 'mysterious lady'." She glanced at Legolas. "Do I have your support to remain in your patrol?"

He nodded quickly. "Of course. You're the strongest with weapons." Anyone who could defeat Glorfindel—repeatedly—when sparring was an asset. Of course, neither played to win, not truly, though they certainly didn't play to lose, either. Glorfindel's sense of style and art of movement simply couldn't compete with her savage flair, her ability to compile centuries of learning into a style all her own which changed to best meet any opponent. When she tried to meet him with his own style, she soon fell.

"But not as knowing in other areas," she reminded him. He hadn't given her a group of her own, and hadn't set her upon one of his other leaders. All the elves in the Service knew or quickly learned what that meant—she was too wild, too undisciplined to unthinkingly follow or to sedately lead.

"You know the wood well," he offered softly.

"I should," she replied a bit cryptically, a bit sarcastically. After a glare to Thranduil that should have melted mithril she swept from the room, missing her cape to complete the dramatic exit.

"Ada?" Legolas asked when the doors closed behind her. "Were you _trying_ to make her leave?"

"No, son," Thranduil answered quietly. "I was trying to make her _return_."

Legolas paused, stilling as a pair of grey eyes looked at him from over Thranduil's shoulder. There she was, more or less kneeling beside Elleri. Verine was sitting on the floor beside him, Morsallien on their mother's lap. He was standing at her shoulder, behind Elleri and Silrinil. The two dear friends were smiling broadly, ears flushed with whatever mischief they had been up to before the portrait's sitting had begun. His expression was somewhat bland… after all, there are far more interesting things to do when not even five hundred, yet old enough to be allowed some more freedom than those under two hundred were allowed. "And if she didn't want to?"

"She _must_, Legolas. Or we lose her for good."


	18. Far from calm

Hi, guys! I would be suffering major computer withdrawel if I didn't still have my computer--as it is I spend less than an hour on the internet a week! sniffle

Thanks for reading, and sorry that it's apparently become quite confusing.

Iluvenis: You're usually so good at rooting out exactly where the story's headed that I'm irrationally pleased to tell you you're wrong this time-- at least about her family. I don't know enough about the Dark Elves to write about them, and I haven't had time to read anything recently.

LJP: _Intermission: Ashes, born as Silrinil, left the Kingdom of Mirkwood many centuries past for reasons she will not discuss with anyone, though some have guessed the general cause. Silrinil's mother died when she was quite young, and her father when she was not that much older. Thranduil, who had befriended her father and had him as one of his best advisors, accepted her into his care, being a replacement for her parents, and called 'Uncle', though no blood lies between them. End Intermission. _Does that help? ;-) I have a better background chapter planned eventually, but I don't remember where it is right now-- I'm in the midst of being eaten alive by another story inspiration-- I'm at 145 pages and still going strong, save for sleep, work, class, and cooking so I can eat.

I have to go-- they're timing us to a half-hour in the lab today. Grr...

* * *

_**Chapter 18 Far from calm**_

Legolas and Glorfindel looked at each other as they approached the wing with their rooms. Two golden brows lifted before they continued on, a bit more cautiously.

Legolas rolled his eyes when he saw which door was open. "Silrinil?" he called, jumping back as a rather soft blanket went flying past him. The noise paused. "Linir?" he asked, a dark head soon peering out of the door.

"I'd forgotten that," she admitted softly.

He tilted his head with a frown, then realized what she meant. "Oh," he murmured, before rubbing at the back of his neck.

"I prefer it to Silrinil," she murmured, before slipping back into her room.

Though they hadn't actually been invited, the elves entered behind her.

"Linir?" Legolas asked, shocked at the mass destruction in her room. The beautiful, soft tapestries had all been pulled down, and were stacked in haphazard piles and lumpy rolls beside the door. "What are you doing?"

"Making it _livable_ in here," she grumbled, reaching for the end of the last remaining tapestry on that wall.

He had never particularly cared for that one, either, and had gone through a similar process in his room when he was about fifteen hundred, and again a few centuries previously. So, he reached up and helped her get it down, but set to rolling it properly, moving it to the small stack Glorfindel had started of properly rolled cylinders. "Are you keeping any of them?"

"Just that one," she murmured, nodding her head at the one which had usually been hidden by the door. "I'm going to move it to that wall," she tilted her head, indicating the large, free space of the wall that had once held a very large, bright garden scene.

Without comment Legolas and Glorfindel reached for it, moving it carefully, realigning it as per her directions. "What else?" the elder asked, gazing around the room.

She looked around, seeing that most of the overly soft and floral things had been removed. "A different mattress, or I shall never manage to rest upon the bed."

Legolas sat down on the bed's edge, and nearly fell back. It was so soft it was trying, really, to engulf him. "I can see why."

She smiled faintly and waited for him to get off before she stripped the bed, hauling the mattress up and working it off of the canopied bed.

"Can you sleep with the curtains?" Legolas asked.

"I shan't close them, if that's what you mean."

"Not entirely."

"As long as the path to the door is clear, I can rest."

He nodded and left the room for a few moments, catching one of the wing's servants quickly. When he returned, he noted one thing that had changed in his absence. Her father's sword rested over the door once more. It was quite reassuring, to his surprise.

Elleri tottered by on his way to his room, having seen familiar sheets and covers lining the hall. "What's all this? Moving out, Ashes?"

"No," she murmured softly, ducking under his arm to assist him in remaining upright down the hall. "Moving in."

Legolas and Glorfindel looked at each other, understanding passing between them. Legolas called a few servants using her bell system, while Glorfindel watched the door.

Elleri grimaced slightly when he was finally back in his own bed. "Stay?" he asked softly.

Silrinil agreed with a soft sigh, looking around the room. "You haven't changed much in here."

"I suppose not. The books are mostly different, though."

She smiled, moving to glance through the titles. "As they should be."

"Have you read much?"

"No. Not much."

"No chance to, I suppose?"

She shook her head. "Only on rare occasions, and there were usually other things to do."

He nodded slightly, watching her. "Why did you really leave?"

"I had to."

"But _why_?"

"Because it would have been too painful to stay here."

With a sigh, he shook his head. "You won't answer plainly, will you?"

She glanced at him over her shoulder, and smiled faintly. "No."

He eased up onto his uninjured arm, shifting the pillows so he could see her and yet be comfortable. "You could start reading, now."

"Yes," she agreed.

He half-chuckled, then winced and stopped. "When you calm down a bit."

"Calm down? I think I'm quite calm."

He grinned, but refrained from laughing… but only because of the pain it would cause him. "Never."

"No?"

He shook his head. "You're never _calm_, Rin. You're… dynamic, I suppose. You might appear calm, for a moment, but then you move, and it's so…"

She quirked a brow when he trailed off. "Oh, don't stop now," she murmured sarcastically.

He scowled at her, but his eyes were laughing. He'd merely been looking for an adequate way to describe her, after all. "You're too _alive_ to be calm. You're always watchful, always ready… you are _far_ from calm."

With a sigh she shook her head. "Perhaps not." She smiled ruefully. "But I don't agree about being too _alive_. Too paranoid, maybe. Too well trained against incautious behavior. But not alive."

"Isn't the constant guard because you wish to remain alive?" he asked quietly.

"Of course it is," she inclined her head.

"Then isn't it, therefore, saying that you are too alive to be incautious?"

She cocked her head to the side, staring at him for a long moment. Slowly, an affectionate smile turned her lips. "I have battled with blades far too long. My tongue wants sharpening. Along with my… intellect?"

"I'd say you're highly intelligent."

"Mmm," she agreed absently, turning back to his shelf. "But I am largely ignorant. All of this," she waved a hand over the titles, "is a blank to me. I may know more about what can and can't be eaten, about the caves and hills, the woods and plants of many a place than any of these authors, but beyond the knowledge of an observer, I know little."

"History has its own place, Rin, and it need not be in the broader world."

"Yes, it does. I'm not saying I wish to become a scholar of history, but there are many things we could have learned from the past… things _I_ could have learned from the past that I was unable to, because I was too foolish to see the value of study—beyond languages," she rolled her eyes… then paused as her thoughts derailed. "Perhaps I was wrong," she mused. "Perhaps studying the tongues of other races was my first wise decision. It has certainly held me in good stead, through the years. Many people will not hesitate to kill those they are ignorant of."

"And you've learned more."

"Yes," she murmured absently, sliding a book slowly from the shelf. "Of course."

Elleri watched her turn the book, her fingers lightly tracing the gilt on the cover, reverently brushing away the grime of time until the letters shown with their original luster. "You didn't read much then. Any more than I did, of course."

"That has changed, for you, at least," she glanced up briefly from the book before glancing back down, opening it slowly, tracing the letters with a tender touch.

"You were gone. Legolas was hesitant to take your place."

She laughed. "I can imagine," she mused, still smiling as she closed the book.

Elleri smiled ruefully. "Looking back, I'd say he was very good to me. I needed the time to find my own way…"

"To find yourself," she agreed. She looked at him for a long moment, and then sighed. "I had no choice, Elleri. I honestly believe that. But I wished so desperately that it wasn't so. I loved it here. Though there were times before Mirkwood, I do not remember them. This was home. You were home."

He nodded slightly. "As were you." His eyes darkened a little, but still were brighter than the majority of his surviving family. "It… it may have been good…"

"That we had time apart." She nodded. Then smiled a little. "Yes, I think so. Neither of us would be who we are if we hadn't."

After a little while he frowned slightly. "I think…"

"That it's better we are who we are than who we were," she murmured, her dark eyes laughing at him.

"We couldn't have remained who we were, anyway, Rin," he mused.

"No. But I far prefer who I have become, having left, than who I would have been, had I stayed."

"And yet, had you stayed, and could somehow see who you've become, you would think yourself all the wiser for having stayed."

She shook her head vehemently. "I couldn't have stayed."

He sighed. "I wasn't arguing that."

She paused for a moment, and then grimaced. "I suppose you're right," she conceded after a little contemplation. "I would have thought it wiser, had the need to leave never arisen."

He smiled, and eased fully back once more. He nodded at the book. "Found something to read?" he asked.

She shook her head and stepped up onto the bed, stepping over him before crouching beside him. "Something for you to read."

He grinned crookedly and accepted the book, waiting expectantly.

With a slightly shy glance at him, she finally gave in to the nostalgia that had been rampant in the room, and stretched out beside him, her head propped on her elbow.

"There aren't any pictures," he teased.

With an overdone pout she shifted, carefully avoiding his wounds as she rested her head on his abdomen, slowly snuggling in.

Elleri smiled a bit, closing his eyes as his injured hand shifted enough to tangle in her hair. It had been a long time. He took a moment to get situated before he began reading, pausing now and then for her questions. She really was far behind in her studies of several things, her knowledge of their history nearly nonexistent. Still, he didn't press, and she didn't ask more than would allow her to understand the story, shifting every now and then.

It wasn't until she turned her back to his door and was angled away from the one that led to the bathing and dressing room he shared with Legolas that he knew his old friend was beginning to join them once more. Ashes wouldn't have trusted anyone that far. Not even a friend.

He was watching the ceiling—not that it was doing anything, of course, other than flickering with the faint light of a fire—when Legolas entered.

Legolas held a finger to his lips and looked at Silrinil, then up at Elleri. 'Asleep?' he mouthed.

When Elleri nodded, Legolas grinned.

'Keep her here until morning.'

'Why?' he mouthed back.

Legolas just smiled and winked before leaving the room.


	19. Just as vulnerable

Did I miss a week? I can't remember anymore. It's been very busy, so it's likely I did--sorry.

If you're a fan of my writingmore than this one story, you'll be happy to know I have another one in the works. The bulk is completed, it just needs some fine-tuning and a lot of editing... and I won't begin posting until I know I'll have a chance to finish posting it. Riht now, I may not have internet access at all come January.

LJP: Am I that predictable?

* * *

_**Chapter 19 Just as vulnerable**_

After a bracing day spent renewing a good friendship and slowly readjusting with the nearly as good one they had formed upon her return, Silrinil and Elleri decided, with identical sighs, that they should probably join the others in the great hall for their evening meal.

She lifted a brow at him. "Why don't you want to go?"

"I don't mind being there, really," he murmured, a bit of a sheepish smile on his face. "But I can't let them see that I'm pained."

"Elleri," she murmured. "_Anyone_ could see that you're in pain."

"Well, they don't want to see that I'm just as vulnerable to injuries as they are. I can't show the pain."

"Don't be an idiot," she scoffed.

"Rin…" He frowned as she buttoned his tunic for him. "Let me put this in your terms. If you're before someone you want to keep impressed, perhaps because they can do something for you, or because you'd rather they _didn't_ do something to you, and you were injured, what would you do?"

She tilted her head in thought for a moment, and then inclined it shortly. "I would do my best not to let them see how much the wound was affecting me, so I was not thought of as weak or vulnerable." She frowned at him. "But _you_ must?"

"Yes," he sighed. He quirked a weak smile. "Legolas and I were commiserating on the annoyances of being who we are not that long ago."

Her eyes slowly drifted down until she was studying the floor.

He gently tipped her chin up. "What?"

"I just realized something, is all."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hmm…"

Silence.

He shifted a bit uncomfortably. "Well?"

"Well what?"

With a sigh he inclined his head slightly for her to place the circlet upon his brow. "What did you realize?"

"A likely cause for Legolas's anger towards me when Uncle insisted I take my place here once more."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

Elleri let out a groan when she didn't continue. "And? _Why_ do you think he was angry?"

"I know he was angry," she murmured, an absently amused glance in his direction making him growl.

"What about?"

"I was shirking my title, denying it, when he can't do the same."

Elleri blinked. Stared. Then nodded. "Yeah, I can see him getting a little riled at having someone else trying to get out of what he can't… especially _you_, Silrinil, since your expectations from the people of this wood were once nearly the same as his."

"To follow in my father's footsteps, assist in ruling the land," she mused. "I know." With a sigh she looked at the circlet Legolas had brought into Elleri's room for her a bit earlier. "Must I?"

"You're quite capable of following him, Rin. More than you were before. Take some time to get caught up in your studies, and—" he broke off at the deadly glare she was aiming at him. "Oh, you meant the topper?" he grinned. "It would make things simpler, you know."

"Oh. Simpler. Like it wasn't simpler to be Ashes."

"No doubt it was, for the most part, except having to forever watch what you said, and did, where you went, how you spoke to _everyone_—not just those you had known before…"

"All right," she grumbled, stopping him from continuing with a flick of her wrist. "But I was just a stranger then. Some random elf who had wandered in. They didn't know me and for the most part didn't know if there was any reason they might have known me. Now…" She sighed and stared forlornly at the circlet. "Now I'm the long-lost lady of the halls, the little orphan Thranduil took under his wing. Some will be happy, most will think me an ungrateful wretch for running away…" She sighed once more.

"Rin… do you think Ada believes you an 'ungrateful wretch'?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. We didn't speak of _that_."

"You haven't even told Ada why you left?"

"I've told _no one_, and I don't intend to," her tone had hardened noticeably.

He blinked. "Wow. Must have been something."

She sighed, and brought a hand up to rub at her temples.

"Ada wouldn't have you back as Silrinil if he didn't want you back. You know that."

"He let me remain as Ashes for over two years."

"Yes. But then it was more than thirteen centuries since you left, and you'd changed drastically since then."

She realized what he was getting at, and rolled her eyes. "The others are right. You Mirkwood elves _are_ paranoid."

"Paranoid, but rarely caught unawares." He lectured sternly.

She snorted, making him grin, finally settling the circlet into its proper place. Which was, unfortunately, her head, and not the table of her room where it had been resting, happily neglected, for many long years. "Well, let's go, then."

Elleri half-smiled and offered her his arm…

She chuckled and shook her head. "Don't think you can make it that far without support?"

"No. I _know_ I can't. I can't even fully dress myself."

"Buttons," she protested.

"Still."

With an unladylike snort she helped him into the corridor, and down the halls. He didn't comment when she paused at the end of the royal hall at the shocked look of the guards, but as she hesitated a little more with every step she took he finally drew her aside, tugging her into one of the empty guest rooms. "It was hard for you to decide to come back, wasn't it?"

"Almost as hard as _doing it,_" she agreed roughly. She stopped, lifting a hand, pressing it to her brow. "Elleri, I…"

He leaned carefully against the wall and drew her forward, glad he had thought to brace himself when she slumped against him. He thought about all the things he _could_ say—how she _could_ do it, that everything would be fine… and if it were anyone else trying to borrow his strength, he would have. But the words were nothing for her, because they were nothing to him. It was fine and good to _say_ those things, but he didn't really know what would happen when they entered the room. He didn't know how the Kingdom would react, how the Captains and the soldiers would respond… Not that he really thought they would become an issue, but how the 'ladies' of the court would deal with her return… How any and all would deal with her 'transformation'.

So, he said nothing, and simply held her. He wondered, for a time, what her secrets were, but he wasn't inclined to ask that, either. For a thousand year they had been the best of friends, had grown up very much together. Their time apart had not wedged them apart on many things. She would speak if she wanted to, and if she did not, he would not force it. When she lifted her head he brushed her hair back as well as he could, and slowly straightened as she took his arm once more, allowing him to lean on her.

They shifted their positions when they came to the point in the corridor that was tinted by the light of the hall. She took a deep breath and accommodated his shift, making it look as if they weren't supporting each other—more as if they had simply been coming along and had met on the way, and he, as prince, as a courteous lord, had offered her his arm.

Before they had taken three steps into the room, they had been noticed, and speculation was clearly—and audibly—rampant. At Elleri's request, she hadn't combed her hair to straighten it, so her identity would be easier to determine… and Ashes had only been noted in passing, identified by the fact that she was a black-haired female who wore weapons, which were, of course, currently absent. After hearing several wild tales about just _why_ they were walking together, they reached the head table. Legolas and Thranduil rose, as was their old custom, and greeted her.

"Please, Uncle," she murmured softly as she kissed his cheek, "don't fuss."

He looked at her for a long moment, and then blew out a breath, nothing in his face or eyes declaring what he had decided.

With that uncertainty piled on top of everything else, she was moved along to Legolas, who inclined his head courteously and kissed the hand she had brought up to his cheek. He lifted a brow slightly—enough she noticed, but not that anyone farther would. "They are not going to roast you alive, Linir," he murmured faintly.

"Do you promise?" she asked, offering him a hesitant, shaky smile.

He frowned swiftly, but since their time had already been long enough to cause a few curious gazes, released her hand with a soft squeeze. Elleri seated her at his right, as she always used to be.

"Why was my chair left empty?" she asked quietly, over the low murmur of gossip.

"So that it would be here for you," Elleri replied.

"So asking Ada not to fuss was rather…"

"Unnecessary," she sighed, finishing Legolas's statement. "So I've gathered."

"You didn't think this through, did you?"

"Not before putting on the blasted circlet and stepping into the hall," she muttered, resisting the urge to bring her fingers to rub at her temples.

"Ah, well. I've arranged something for you," Legolas murmured.

"What? Why?"

He smiled faintly at her mildly panicked tones, and then inclined his head to someone behind her. "Simply someone besides Elleri and myself to converse with."

She glanced at her right, and found there _was_ a seat there. Usually there was not—if there were any visiting powers, Thranduil usually received them in the family dining hall—both an honor and more convenient, as that way more than one could be entertained at once without having their back to the majority of the hall. Besides, it was not all that conducive to meetings of any sort to talk over two princesses and in full view of all who ate within the hall. The seat now beside her was at a rather awkward angle. Rather than put it actually at the _end_ of the table, whoever was to eat there would be doing so with the table's edge in his abdomen.

Even as she was contemplating the uncomfortable position, a hand reached out and drew the chair back. Familiar robes draped down to just beyond the wrists of even more familiar hands. She'd spent quite a bit of time watching those hands, when they held and wielded a weapon against her.

"Good evening, my lady," his deep voice murmured.

"Welcome, my lord," she countered, smiling with the familiarity of the tease.

He chuckled softly and seated himself, a little closer to her than perhaps was polite, but she could hardly blame him. "Finally admitting the truth of our game, I see."

"It wasn't entirely up to me."

He quirked a brow. "You could have left, if you were really against it."

"No," she mused faintly. "This _is_ home now, Glorfindel."

"No," he murmured, shaking his head. "Not _now_, Silrinil. It was always yours, at least in the back of your mind."

She considered that for a moment, with her eyes upon her goblet. "Perhaps," she agreed at last. "And for now I must remain here."

"I don't like the sound of 'I _must_'," Elleri muttered. "We do not force you to remain."

"With invisible chains and weightless bonds," she mused, "you surely do."

"You cast them off once," Legolas murmured, not turning to face them, still looking out over the eating elves.

"Yes," she agreed quietly.

"And?" Elleri asked.

"You're too impatient," two voices chimed. Elleri looked between them in shock, even as they glanced at each other.

"Valar," Elleri muttered. "From either side!" he grumbled. "Well?"

She sighed, looking away from the elder prince and out over the crowded hall. "I cast them off as much as I could because they would have brought me below the earth had I let them remain. I've grown stronger in my freedom, I think, and can better bear their weight and constraint."

"And if you can't, it will be nigh on impossible to be freed of them once more."

"I don't think it _is_ possible, not fully. You know what I have done in the interim, the name I chose. No matter where I might wander you would still _know_."

"And be able to find you, should we so desire," Legolas murmured in clarification when Elleri shook his head slightly.

"Yes. Though I don't imagine I would be followed."

"Why not?" Elleri asked, frowning. "Of course we would—"

"Not necessarily, Elleri," Legolas cut in. "She can take care of herself, and enjoyed being a wanderer. We cannot deny her return to that life on the basis of danger or fear. If she chose to return, what could we do to stop her?"

"Ask her not to go?"

He shook his head. "Should she decide to go, she will be steeled beyond all pleas."

Elleri frowned at him, after that. "Thought about this?"

"Yes… fought with the same desire within myself," he admitted quietly.

Silrinil's gaze dropped down once more.

Elleri looked between the two and sighed.

Once the majority of the feasting had been completed, many couples approached the open space between the head table and the long rows of other tables to dance. After a few songs had played out, a few hesitant young lords began approaching the head table. Legolas rose quickly, knowing Silrinil—when still Ashes—had always escaped the hall before this time.

He moved to her chair and bowed slightly, extending his hand.

She, having seen the same thing he had, accepted without the customary pause of acknowledgement. As it was, technically, his duty and his right to dance with a 'visiting' lady, no one approached them until the third dance. He led her off the floor before the others could arrive, and moved to the head table once more. "Elleri?" he asked softly. "Care to join us in an early return to the wing? I've got a bit of captain-work to do early, which demands an early night from those accompanying me, as well."

"I don't know that I would be that much of an assistant, tomorrow, but I can certainly stand around and tell you what you're doing wrong." Elleri murmured jovially, and got to his feet, paling just slightly, managing to reach the door before they did.

They caught him carefully as he began to slump against the wall.

"You are an idiot," Silrinil muttered.

Legolas lifted a brow and nudged her out of the way, supporting Elleri much more firmly than she had, giving no thought to saving Elleri's pride. Together they got him into bed fairly quickly, but Legolas caught her arm when she would have walked out. "I ordered a few things changed in your room," he murmured.

"Oh?" she asked, lifting a brow, a spark of anger lighting in her dark eyes.

"Yes," he agreed, and pulled her through to his room. He picked up four keys on a silver thread. "These are the only keys to your new lock, for one thing."

She gazed at them for a long moment, then closed her fingers tightly around them. "Thank you," she murmured, eyes closed.

He nodded. "Just so you remember to include yourself in that 'paranoid Mirkwood elves' line you so love."

She rolled her eyes, but had to smile. "At least _I_ admit it."

He chuckled softly and walked her out of his room and then down the hall to her own. He shrugged at her lifted brow. "I want to see if you like it or not," he murmured.

She mentally winced—that _really_ didn't sound good. "There wasn't anything wrong with it before…" she trailed off as she entered, gazing around in awe. She turned to him, her shock apparent. She tried to figure it out, able to speak only one word, which was enough. "But…"

"Elleri kept you away long enough," he answered softly, having watched her face a bit nervously.

The room had been painted—three sides were outdoor scenes so realistic they weren't beautiful. Majestic, yes, but not beautiful. The forth wall was covered in a city she had only seen in her dreams, and then only as fragments of someone else's memory. She glanced sharply at Legolas.

He shrugged. "Glorfindel's main contribution."

She stared at him for a long moment, then caught his hand before he could move away. She lifted the captured appendage, studying it in the light. In the creases, in the grooves worn rough through centuries of bow and sword work, she found traces of the colors upon her walls. "You did this?"

He glanced around the rooms, and shrugged slightly. "We had the same thought… well, basically. I didn't think to add the city."

"No," she murmured softly. "You wouldn't have."

He lifted a brow, but she just smiled enigmatically and kept looking around the room. He smiled when she looked sharply at him, dropping his hand to approach the bed, pressing lightly down on the mattress. He chuckled when she rooted through several thick layers of dark cloth to the mattress below. "Well?"

She ignored the question and crawled into the bundle of dark covers, snuggling down into the little nest. She sighed contentedly, sitting up when he began laughing. "What?"

"You look like a little black fox, all curled up," he teased playfully.

She glared, snapping her hand out, yanking him forward as she twisted to the side.

He landed on his stomach with an 'oof', and turned to face her, propping his head on his hand. "Well?" he asked when the bed stopped moving.

She fell back with a sigh, and one of the first true smiles he'd seemed aimed towards himself. "Thank you."

"Think you can survive here, now?"

She studied his smile for a moment, her own slowly fading. "Perhaps," she agreed, a faint smile touching her lips again. "How did you get this done so quickly?"

He chuckled and sat up, glancing around the room. "We blocked in the shapes, chose the colors… and then recruited help. Glorfindel was very picky, though. Everything had to be _just_ right." He tilted his head and moved a bit of her hair so he could get up without pulling it. "Is there anything else you want changed?"

She considered her rather over-large room, and recalled the bathing room. It had always been more or less bare stone—rather an understated beauty, which she appreciated now as she hadn't before. "No." She smiled faintly and released the hair that had been holding the circlet in place, tossing it absently at the table.

It rang cheerfully as it bounced against the wall, but the notes were more grating as it crashed to the floor.

Legolas bit his lip to keep from chuckling at her expression, and moved over to pick up her circlet, moving the table over a foot before releasing the simple band of metal to rest upon it. "Good night, Linir," he murmured softly. He inclined his head at the new lock that shown below the worn handle. "Don't forget to lock the door."

"Mmm," she murmured, eyes closing on a contented smile. "What time and where?"

"What?"

"The group stuff we're doing in the morning that allowed you to get Elleri and I out of the hall without too much fuss?"

"Ah. Before the sun rises meet us on the training field."

"You aren't going to disturb Elleri."

"No," he agreed. "Enough. Rest. It has been a trying few days for you."

She smiled ruefully as she got to her feet, lifting the silver thread with its keys. "Indeed," she agreed softly, locking the door once he had released it.


	20. New tactics

I suppose I should just give up on a typical, once a week update. There was an eight person waiting list for the internetwhen I tried to get on the computer the last several chances I've gotten.

Thanks to all who read/reviewed, and I promise I'll do my best to update more regularly!

Does anyone know how the 'reply' button on the reviews works? (I could probably find some message, but I'm tired and have to get up in a few hours for work.)

Iluvenis: Okay. Legolas didn't recognize her. Elleri didn't recognize her. No one recognized her, until Elleri was hurt. Thranduil knew who she was, recognized her, by the sword she'd carried to meet with him, which she didn't carry after that, for that reason. As for the bonds... well, you'll just have to wait and keep reading.

Eyes of sky: Probably. Did I screw it up? I'm too tired to look now, but some day I'll fix it.

madrone: I'm working on that, actually, up until recently I was working on it all day.

Raider-K: Thank you, welcome back.

LJP: I doubt he'd consider it sweet or cute, but it works. ;)

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_**Chapter 20 New tactics**_

Enough of the elves in Legolas's patrol had been in the great hall for dinner the previous evening that her presence between Glorfindel and Elleri had been noted. Her name had been passed around, and they greeted her a bit defiantly when she joined them.

"Sorry," she murmured softly, looking at the faint hints of light breaking upon the stones around them.

He inclined his head, acknowledging her and her apology. "He warned me."

She inclined her head curtly, and glanced back as Glorfindel and the messenger who had fetched him back to Imladris before dawn exited the mountain. They returned a few comments in that twisted tongue no other could understand before the Imladris elves headed off through the wood.

Legolas waited until Glorfindel was gone to lead the way onto the field they would be using for spars until mid-morning. She watched him go, saw his shoulders tense slightly when he heard no one moving to follow.

She lifted a brow as they stared at her, most with arms crossed over their chests.

"Lady Silrinil," one murmured.

She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement. "Torien," she replied.

Ferien, who had come more to watch and just _be_ there, tilted his head. "You really are a lady?"

She quirked a brow, and nodded, stepping between them to follow Legolas.

"Then… Why be here?"

"I was raised in Mirkwood, as well you know, having heard that name."

"Well…"

"So you played with the Captain when younger?"

She snorted with laughter. "No," she chuckled. "I played with Elleri. Legolas was far too ancient to join our games. I rather suspect he thought us too childish to enjoy."

"Why leave?"

"Because I wished to," she muttered shortly, casting a hard look at the speaker, indicating that _that_ subject was certainly off limits.

"Why'd you come back?" Ferien hazarded.

"Mirkwood is the only true home I have on these shores, no matter how far I roam." She glanced around once, looking for any sign of more questions. Then she tossed off her cloak and drew her sword, bowing her head slightly to Legolas, who inclined his head after checking her eyes.

"Everyone will be partnered up with a new sparring partner," Legolas murmured softly, then proceeded to separate them out.

"And Ashes?"

"Silrinil and I will be sparring," he replied, voice still quiet. "Any other questions?"

"Has a lady joined the service before?"

"No."

After the flat reply, questions were quieted. The partnered elves separated out, leaving Silrinil standing before Legolas. They both looked sadly at the dwindled pairs, three sparring, one pair industriously criticizing the others. Legolas called to them, then inclined his head towards the weaponry, telling them without words to make themselves useful however they could, since Ferien could not yet spar.

With his back to the male elves under his command, he closed his eyes, head bowing as he noted too keenly the lack of noise where before there had been plenty.

"When is the service?"

"Day before yesterday," he replied softly.

"What?"

He sighed. "You needed the rest as much as he did, Linir."

She was silent for a moment, but did not deny his statement. "Will you show me to them?"

After a moment, he nodded slightly. "After this, or after dinner, if you like."

She hesitated for a long moment. In the light of day there would be no denying the truth of their loss… which was, perhaps, why the service for those who knew the departed tended to be held at night. That, and the love of the elves for the stars, of course. "After this."

He nodded, then took a bracing breath and shrugged off his weariness, drawing his blades. When he had to hide a grin, she rolled her eyes.

"You could have asked, you know."

"I _suppose_," he drawled.

She laughed softly and threw herself into the spar with the same wild abandon with which she always fought.

It was far different fighting her than it was just to _watch_ her fight—much more so than it was with anyone else he'd encountered. By merely watching, you didn't get the sense of energy that flowed out from her, the feeling that you could _know_ her, if you only figured out what move came next.

Having watched her spar enough to know she would go to the end, and consider it not worth the effort if a draw was called, he didn't hold back as he would have with anyone else.

He was gratified when she drew a long dagger to help defend against him, having wondered at his own abilities—she had never failed to draw a second blade against Glorfindel.

"You've been watching," she growled softly, dark eyes sparkling as she twisted easily away.

"When given the chance, I always study my opponent," he managed, trying to rip her dagger away.

She snorted, and on the next attack to the dagger let it go, the metal scraping over the dirt covered stone with stuttering sounds.

Thinking he had the upper hand, he was shocked when his blades were still being countered—by a blade in _each_ hand. He gaped for an instant, then recalled himself in time to avoid being disarmed, ducking down as a wild blow nearly glanced his cheek.

A sharp move caught her unawares, for an instant, and he managed to relieve her of the dagger she'd drawn before she struck back, catching him with the same move she had defeated Glorfindel with on the first match between them that Legolas had seen.

He remembered the rest quickly enough to leap back, weapons ready. He groaned when she drew out _another_ dagger. "Valar, Linir! That _must_ be cheating!"

She laughed softly and shook her head. "I would have fought to hold my blades if I didn't have more."

"How _many_ more?" he grumbled, flipping back before dropping into a roll. He was on his feet in time to strike offensively, in time to see the secretive smile she wore in response to his complaint. "Valar," he muttered, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.

Four daggers later he _finally_ seemed to have her down to her sword.

"You never drew more than one dagger on Glorfindel," he murmured in her ear, having pinned her back to his chest. He jerked his head out of the way, avoiding that attack of hers, and dropped her to the ground.

She rolled and was on her feet before he could finish her off. "He generally spars to _learn_, Legolas. You are fighting to win."

"Because you do."

"Ah," she mused, tilting her head to the side for an instant. "Perhaps—" she struck. "Because—" she twisted. "I learned in a situation where—" another strike. "To lose is to be in the control of another." She wrenched one of his daggers away.

He scowled at the dagger in her hand. "Do I _want_ to know where you hide all of those?"

"I picked that one up," she murmured with a faint smile.

He growled softly and drew his sword.

She smirked and settled back, waiting with a calm enough pose but wary eyes.

Several minutes and much shifting of blades later, he had her weaponless, pinned to his chest once more. He had decided, as Glorfindel previously had, that her back to his chest, legs spread just enough she couldn't unbalance him, was the safest way to hold onto her. He kept his head back, then, as she jerked, and then did something the Imladris lord would most likely never have considered. He swooped down, pinning her neck in his teeth—holding her still without hurting her.

She froze, muscles tensing against him before ever so slowly relaxing. "That's different," she mused, shifting carefully. "I yield," she sighed a minute later, unwilling to test his hold on her nape.

"Hmph," he snorted, the exhalation moving her hair slightly. He lifted his head and slowly released her hands, watching the faint red marks on her neck fade away.

She chuckled softly. "The match is over," she murmured softly, glancing back at him.

He nodded an agreement, and then noticed—for the first time—that they were being watched. He glanced up, and realized their match had gone well past the anticipated time. "Elowar," he murmured softly, inclining his head.

"New tactics?" he suggested, before handing Legolas one of his long daggers.

"Learn something new everyday," Legolas replied blandly, sheathing the dagger upon his back. Silrinil handed him the other, and he passed her back her sword before glancing around for his own. A minute later they had their own weapons properly placed to return to the hall. "How long were we being watched?" he asked quietly.

"Your patrol from just before I drew my first dagger… Elowar's from a bit before you drew your sword." She laughed softly at his grumble, and reached up to tie the hair that had worked its way loose back at her nape.

He caught her hand, having noted the red upon it. "To the healers first, Linir."

"I have what is needed in my room, Legolas."

He frowned at her. "Can you take care of it on your own?"

"If I couldn't, I would have bled to death long ago," she responded softly.

"Hmm," he murmured faintly, walking with her. "I'll—"

"Come inside and let me deal with the wound I inflicted upon you," she interrupted softly.

He blinked. "Wound?" he repeated blankly.

She snorted. "Yes. The bloody gash?"

With a frown he glanced down at himself, seeing no blood welling up from the small holes she'd cut in his shirt or leggings. Cool fingers on his cheek drew his attention up once more, his eyes nearly crossing to see the blood she pulled back with. "I guess I didn't duck in time," he mused. "I didn't notice."

"Battle-energy," she mused.

He smiled faintly, and glanced in the mirror. The blood had dripped down almost to his chin, but had been unable to continue on. "Well. We must have looked a sight."

She laughed and moved to a tattered pack which was leaning against a painted tree, digging through it until she returned with several pieces of plain white cloth and a few small jars. She picked up the bowl by the door, emptying it of fruit before filling it with her supplies, and moved into the bathing room. "Well?" she asked softly.

He followed slowly, and found her bathing room was much like the one he shared with Elleri, only smaller and with less of a gilded edge… which he found he quite preferred. Silrinil had filled the bowl with water, and started to turn to him with a damp cloth, but he caught her hand and turned it, taking the cloth to her own wound first. It _was_ long, but it wasn't very deep, and hadn't bled overmuch, but he would prefer having it tended first.

Once clean, she spread a paste of some origin unknown to him over it, and allowed him to tie one of the bandages around it. She emptied the water bowl and got new, as the water had cooled, and motioned for him to sit.

He couldn't remember anyone other than the healers tending his wounds—save for field dressings—ever before. Minor ones, like this one most likely was, he would wash in a nearby outshoot of the natural springs within the mountain, and then ignore.

She pressed the warm cloth to his cheek, but didn't move it. After a few moments she removed the cloth and rewet it, wringing it out to replace it, a little higher up.

When she pressed against the wound itself, he felt the pain of it for the first time, and winced slightly. Dark eyes flickered to him, but she didn't say anything, simply lifted the cloth and then drew it gently down along his cheek to his chin. After leaving the cloth in the bowl, she dipped a finger in the paste, and dabbed it lightly on the wound, the move so soft he didn't feel any pain for the touch.

In fact, he no longer felt _any_ pain. "What…"

"It numbs the flesh," she answered quietly, before lifting the cloth again. "It wasn't deep—it shouldn't scar."

"And your own?"

She shook her head. "Not with this," she murmured, inclining her head at the jar she had used.

"What is the difference between them?"

She smiled faintly and closed the jars tightly. "They do much the same thing… but the one I used on your wound stems the bleeding a bit more rapidly—good for injuries that can't easily be bandaged."

"Small, superficial ones."

She nodded. "Yes."

He looked back at her bandaged arm. He noted a few lines, and drew his fingers along them. "You learned by failure how to make those, didn't you?"

"Yes. I knew a little before I left, of course, but the plants the healers use here don't grow everywhere."

"Nor, most likely, do the plants you use."

"No," she agreed with a faint smile. "In fact, I doubt many know of the main ones—as they grow only in cold, dark and damp places."

With the faintest shrug he stood up, and followed her back into her room. She put the things away in her old travel pack, then began removing her weapons, one at a time, making him remember their task. He left her room, stripping himself of his weapons, leaving them just inside his door.

She was waiting when he stepped back into the corridor, and together they made their way down to the tombs. Since the ground more than two inches below the surface tended to be solid rock until one was deep within the forest, Mirkwood elves were not buried, and certainly they were not burned. So deep within the mountain's roots they wound their steps, walking together in solemn stillness as the torches sprang to life to guide their path.

At twilight, the room they entered would be bathed silver, thanks to the endless reflection of starlight from so many silver mirrors placed carefully within the rock and walls. Now, with the sun directly pouring into the far distant channel, the room was ablaze, and far less soothing. The endless lines of fallen could be seen, small rooms hewn off the main corridor, each either filled or hoping not to be, each for a family or group of families, a patrol there, a group here.

They said nothing until they were before the place filled so recently, and even those few words of prayer were cut off from the rest of the dead by the shuttered stillness of the hewn room that had received them.

The harsh light showed the truest reality of their loss—eleven stones filled with elves who had not two weeks ago been jesting merrily with them as they started the long wind into the forest.

By silent agreement they turned together to leave, but they did not turn to exit the catacombs. Instead they continued down the hall, until they passed into another wing of the dead. There were far fewer remains left here, and no visitors or mourners set foot within unless they were of blood. On the right, the kings and queens that had been before, along with the rare prince who had been killed in service. On the left, the most trusted advisor of the current king, and his wife, as they had had no set place here. Walking in on the right, their view of the left side of the room blocked by a large metal and jewel tree, they came to the Queen first.

Fingers squeezed his own as he let himself dwell on his mother for a moment, as he remembered her dark gold hair and sky-bright eyes. Morsallien had been too young to know how much like their mother she looked. Verine, like Legolas, had the darker sapphire eyes of their father, which Legolas felt something of a pity.

They moved on around the tree, coming first to Silrinil's mother. She reached out, lightly tracing the features painted upon the small alter before her stone. Now he tightened his hold on her fingers, making her smile faintly before she led him on. Her eyes darkened slightly when they were before her father's resting place, and she reached out to touch the slab of dark stone covering him after stepping up lightly onto the short step leading to his final resting place.

Legolas watched her eyes close in memory, and found his own breath was coming in unevenly, thinking how terribly unfair her life had been. He stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. She whispered a few soft words in that blasted tongue he didn't understand, then leaned back into his hold, her eyes drifting closed.

They stayed like that for a fair time, thinking about their losses. Eventually they stirred, drifting out of the tombs with fingers entwined… though neither could say when it had happened or who initiated it… _again_.


	21. Change their plumage

Okay, I've got the review reply thing figured out. If you want a reply, you MUST sign in, or give me your e-mail address. Either's fine with me.

I've finally got internet access whenever I'm on my computer! It's slow, but I've got it, so I've no excuse, and can update regularly.

This story started as a one-shot, which grew until it would not leave me alone-- I've posted the one-shot as 'In the Darkness Dwells' if anyone's interested.

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_**Chapter 21 Change their plumage**_

Jarthey inclined her head slightly, and smirked when the move was returned. "I don't think you're supposed to do that."

"It's a show of respect," he murmured softly.

She snorted and shifted her weight, her muscles unconsciously tensing and coiling as if she were one of the two being so fervently watched by so many. "You are here to see them, or to speak with me?"

"Both." He adjusted his cloak which served as a half-mask and tried to slouch a bit more.

"They are incredible together," she mused.

He watched them, dodging, deflecting, stopping, starting… "An intricate dance," he agreed. "Such perfection is unusual, isn't it?"

"It is. They read each other well, unaware of doing so."

"Legolas had a cut on his cheek last month."

"She had a cut on the back of her wrist," she countered softly. "Hers was worse, his more visible."

"Equal effect."

"Yes. I dare say neither noticed the wounds until they were done."

"Who wins?"

"Sometimes she does, sometimes he does. Never the same way twice… and they always take quite a while for it to be decided."

Sapphire eyes widened as another dagger appeared when Silrinil's last one had been lost. "How many blades does she carry?"

"I've seen her draw eight—she carries more when they go into the wood. At least eleven."

"_Why?"_

"She was here when the she-elves in the hall were taught to throw daggers—I've no doubt she learned at least that much here, before she left." She shrugged. "A quick throw works just as well as an arrow, if the thrower is artful, and doesn't require the same time."

"She is quite good with her arrows," he murmured.

"Now. He helped her with that."

"Oh?"

"Of course."

He glanced at her sharply. "You say of course…"

"Yes," she agreed softly.

"Then you know why she left?"

"I have an idea," she murmured, before looking at him, her eyes hard and filled with warning. "But _you_ I will not tell. Such things are too close to that which keeps the blood flowing to be trifled with."

"Has it to do with him?"

Jarthey shrugged, not so much an admission that she didn't know as that even if she knew, she wouldn't let _him_ know even that much. "_If_ it does, he isn't aware of it."

"But she is?"

"Of _course_ she knows why she left, Thranduil!" she rolled her eyes. "How could she _not?_"

"And the chip on her shoulder?"

"Still there, but… changed. Making her into who she was has forced her to release it—the safety of being a stranger was stripped from her, making it so she would have to explain herself much more than she was inclined to do had she continued being so close-mouthed and angry-eyed."

"Is that a good thing?" he mused, not really caring if she had a response or not.

"It could be… and it might not be. Birds may change their plumage, but they're still the same bird."

"Are they?"

They looked at each other for a long moment, then turned their attention back to the spar going on.

"He has learned well."

"You sent him as messenger so he would learn. He knows that."

"She learned by a harsher route, I've heard."

"Yes… but that method has its values, too. She is quicker to adapt than he is—her experience is more than equal to his."

"Well matched, then."

"Definitely."

He nodded and glanced at his other son, where he was leaning against a smoothed wall. "How is Elleri doing?"

"He should be a captain now, but because Hathien is behind they won't give him the title for a while, yet."

Thranduil shook his head, but sighed.

She smiled slightly. "He won't be a Captain forever. When Legolas gives it up, he'll continue for a few years—maybe a century—before finding another interest."

"You really think so?"

"Yes."

"Do you see Legolas retiring anytime soon? He has been a captain longer than any of the others, save you."

She chuckled softly, and watched the prince in question give his opponent a somewhat feral grin before leaping into the air—a rather impressive feat that startled her for an instant, which he used to his advantage, pinning her quickly. She jerked around, gaining enough space to elbow him harshly, jerking her head back, catching him squarely on the chin, snapping his head back, gaining her release. Her blades crossed at his throat. Sapphire met stormy grey, before a small grin crossed his lips as he closed his eyes, inclining his head slightly. From their place at the periphery, they couldn't hear whatever words of praise or surrender he uttered, but she withdrew her blades, sheathing them with a curt bow of her head to him.

Jarthey smiled as they began picking up their weapons. "When his wife begins to worry about him as he wanders, he will restrict his duties—taking over as commander of the troops, overseeing things for you if you'll allow that, but he'll not go on patrol any longer."

Thranduil lifted a brow. "I can't see Legolas with a wife… much less one who would dare ask him to give up the Service."

"She wouldn't ask, nor would she tell or beg. She will simply worry, and he will make the decision on his own."

"Kireon didn't."

Her eyes darkened, her gaze falling for a moment. "No," she agreed softly. "Anymore than I would have thought to ask, though I worried." She snorted. "Valar, how I worried. I worried more than those who have always waited—because I knew, I _knew_ that things were getting worse." She laughed bitterly. "But he knows me, he knows… and he will not leave her to become me."

Thranduil glanced sharply at her, then stared at the two elves talking at the side of the field as Silrinil replaced her daggers and Legolas watched her in interest. "Are you certain you cannot be convinced to speak on her reason for leaving? I've gotten the feeling Legolas knows."

She snorted before she could stop herself. When he glanced at her, she tried to look innocent as she shrugged. "He doesn't know."

"But he may _know_ something more than you."

"She may have spoken more with him about this, but he doesn't know."

"And you _do?_"

"I'm pretty sure of it," she agreed softly.

"Though she hasn't spoken to you… as far as I know, ever?"

"We speak on occasion, but briefly. We understand each other."

"Do you?"

"Well enough, Thranduil. After all, just being female in this line of work gives us quite a bit in common."

"A certain independence and disregard for the rules?" he suggested dryly.

"Not so much," she shrugged, "though that is true. I was thinking more along the lines of following our fathers' footsteps. Mine was one of your Captains for centuries, and trained me well so I could defend myself while he was away. Her father was a warrior… though I don't know that she remembers."

"You never did talk him into training anyone, did you?"

She shook her head, regretfully. "No. And it's such a loss, Thranduil… though she has picked up a fair bit of it." She shifted her weight a bit uneasily. "What did Elrond tell you?"

Thranduil scowled at her.

She laughed. "Come now, what else would you 'urgently' need to send Legolas to Imladris for, with 'Ashes'?"

"It was Elleri's suggestion."

"Though if he hadn't made it, you would have coaxed Legolas to your desire, or simply outright ordered him to take her. Well? What did the distinguished half-elven have to say about her?"

"I rather think he had suspicions he didn't voice," he grumbled, looking pointedly at her.

"I think, if we are right, it is best, for now, that you not know," she answered gently, reminding him for a moment that she was a very old, very wise she-elf. Who made a habit of studying people. "What _did_ he say?"

"That she was loyal, troubled, but no direct danger to myself or my kin."

"That's it?" she asked dryly.

He snorted.

She laughed softly. "No wonder you were annoyed. Did Glorfindel bring any farther insight into her?"

"He did tell me a bit about her life as a wanderer…" he admitted, trailing off. With a shake of his head he lifted a hand to his temple. "I can't imagine the little elf who left going through all of that."

"She didn't," Jarthey murmured softly. "Because she was left behind the instant out of the halls, Thranduil. Ashes was born, Silrinil forced into memory… until you came and made her come forward."

"I was right to do so."

"Right or wrong, it is done, and you can only watch to see what happens. I must say, though, I prefer Ashes to the Lady that left."

Thranduil watched her walk away, and looked back in time to see one dark head between two light blond ones before they walked into the hall, heading back to the royal wing, no doubt. "As do I," he mused. "Valar forgive me."


	22. Left with the baby

Well, since I can't reply to reviews here, anymore, I suppose there's not much left _to_ say...

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_**Chapter 22: Left with the baby**_

A discontented sound made itself heard through the group of elves. They all looked over at the source, the elf's ears bright red as he shifted his feet a bit uneasily. "Um… well, my wife wanted to visit her brother, who is a bachelor… and, well…"

"Left you with the baby?" Ferien asked in shock, looking at the creature in Waristan's arms as if it was going to suddenly grow larger eyes, claws, teeth, and otherwise turn itself into an orc or a goblin.

"Well… we aren't going on patrol until almost two weeks before she gets back," he murmured.

"You're going to be toting him around for the next three weeks?" Darlon asked in absolute horror.

"Well, no… my sister is coming back to the halls day after tomorrow. This should be the only day…" he looked beseechingly at Legolas, who was watching the whining child as he listened to the conversation.

"You should spend more of your free time with your family," he murmured softly, reaching out to the child, who was given over without hesitation, and, in fact, a hint of desperation. Legolas tucked the infant into his arm with the absent confidence of experience and studied the wide blue eyes which had focused on him just as intently. "Darlon, you should figure out the difference between males and females sometime—might come in handy. How old is she?" he asked the embarrassed father.

Waristan shifted a bit. "Four months."

"She left a _four month old_ little girl with you?" Ferien asked, eyes even wider. "That's…"

"Foolish," Legolas muttered.

"My sister…"

"And in the meantime, who plans to feed her? You?" he broke in, glaring at the uncertain elf before returning his attention to the fussing bundle. "No wonder she's upset," he murmured, voice softening as he watched her. Of the ten that were not titled in the group, eight were bachelors, and somewhat determined—at least at present—to remain so. The other two had, between them, six children. Waristan had just been handed his first to care for, and was clearly lost. With a sigh Legolas devoted himself to calming the small child, and the others watched in some surprise as she quieted, watching him just as solemnly as he gazed at her.

Suddenly she smiled, then cooed slightly and began gurgling happily, waving her arms around. Waristan stared at them in shock. "What… how…"

"It's part of being a father, Waristan. Learn how to reach them."

"So… how many children have you had?"

Legolas glared over his shoulder at the impudent elf who had dared suggest such a thing. His tone was biting. "None. But, if you recall, I was over four hundred when my brother was born. I had lots of practice at this by the time Morsallien was conceived."

Waristan shifted uncomfortably. "You mean you talked to them before they were born?"

"It's not so much words, but yes," he agreed, before handing the infant back. "Didn't you?"

"I…"

"Not all of us have the knack."

Legolas lifted a brow, but didn't comment. "As there is nothing formal to do, I would like you to work on your weak points for today. For most of you, that is _not_ archery, so if you would kindly put your bows away…"

There were a few groans before the bows were put away. "What, then?" Ferien asked.

Legolas directed them around, and found himself watching the little one, as Silrinil wasn't present to spar with him.

"Where's our lady, Captain?"

"The King wished to speak with her. She'll be along when she can be." He inclined his head to their work, and when they had begun he considered _what_ his father could have wanted to speak with her about that couldn't have been asked at the dinner table. It wasn't uncommon for them to dine in the family room, making conversation much easier… but all he had said was that he wished to speak with her.

He had a bad feeling about that discussion, though he couldn't quite put in words _why_ he was so worried.

He _did_ know he was afraid something his father said would make her want to leave, even if she knew she would have to come back again. He simply didn't want her to leave… which really wasn't all that wonderful a thought.

She had lost her _mate_, for Eru's sake, and in the last months since Elleri's attack and subsequent Captainship, he had found himself having to remind himself of that rather too often for his own peace of mind. He didn't know if the other male was still alive, and found himself hoping not, which was not only uncharitable but not really like him.

Normally. It seemed around her that 'normal' was somehow skewed.

It had gotten worse in the last weeks… it was probably their spars. He had to snort at his thoughts—how could sparring, usually without speaking, have anything to do with anything other than increasing fighting skills? When it was with her, though, it did. They had recently had to schedule their fights when they had a good bit of time to give over to it, because they lasted for so long, and could hardly be distracted from the task at hand.

Every Captain and all the groups had come, at least once, to watch them fight. The reason they came was the reason he blamed the spars for the almost intimate closeness he sometimes felt with her. He could read her, just as she could read him. He hadn't realized it at first, of course… at least, when they first began reading each other. The first few fights hadn't been like that, but the other matches… it was exhilarating, fighting someone you knew so well… but it also made him hate the idea of her ever sparring with Glorfindel again.

Of course, as soon as the match was yielded, he had to restrain himself from touching her, holding her… and the thought that she might be married would usually bring him up cold.

It wasn't a sanctioned marriage if she was, as his father performed them. Still, when souls met… it was, really, a marriage, and neither could ever fully be free of it, sanctioned vows and witnesses or no.

Legolas was still sitting there after the others left, still contemplating the dirt in front of his feet when a faint sound at his shoulder made him look up. He shot to his feet and grasped her arms. "What happened?"

She gazed at him for a long moment, her face so pale, eyes so dark… and didn't seem to even see him.

"Silrinil?" he asked, his hands tightening over her upper arms. He shook her slightly when she kept looking through him. "What happened?" he asked, shifting her closer, one hand around her back, the other tilting her head slightly. "Linir?"

She shook slightly, a few blinks focusing her eyes on his. She frowned faintly. "Legolas?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Are you all right?" he asked gruffly.

She took a deep breath herself, and let it out on a sigh as she laid her head on his shoulder.

Blinking in shock, he held her tightly, wondering what his father had said to upset her so… and mentally censoring his future irate conversation with said father. "What happened, Linir?"

She shook her head slightly.

With a sigh he moved so he could see her face. "Linir…" His warning tone had no effect, as he should have known. "Linir, please. You looked like the world had fallen in on your head," he murmured softly, stroking her hair.

She shuddered.

"Linir," he breathed. Realizing he had held her more tightly, he eased his hold and touched her cheek. "Please… say _something_. You're actually scaring me," he admitted on a shuddering breath, his tone betraying the truth of the statement.

She sighed and shook her head, nuzzling into him, nose buried in his collar. "I _can't_, Legolas."

"Why not?" he asked, only a little relieved that she was at least _speaking_. "I don't understand why you hide so much… I already know more than Ada—he doesn't know about your mate, does he?"

It took a long moment, but she shook her head quickly.

"Then why can't you tell me?"

She shuddered, holding more tightly to him.

The realization that she'd come to him for comfort nearly knocked him off his feet. Always before she went to Elleri… perhaps…

Perhaps she was softening towards him.

He found her chin, tipping her head up. A funny little quiver shot through his stomach to see the tears that she wasn't quite letting fall, encouraging him to lift his hand to brush at those lashes, his fingers sinking into her hair, his forehead tipping forward to rest against hers as he caught her eyes, trying to project calm and caring to her as he had to Waristan's little girl.

It didn't have quite the same effect. A tear fell, followed by another, then another. "Legolas, he…"

"He what, Linir?" he asked softly.

"He's given me a month."

"A month?" he asked, not comprehending. A month for what?

"A month before he'll order me to tell him _exactly_ why I left. Legolas… I… I _can't_ tell him…"

He looked into her pleading eyes, and pulled her a bit closer. "Shh," he murmured. "I'll—"

"Captain?"

He mentally swore, but released her slowly, turning to face the intruder. "Yes, Waristan?"

"Could you settle her down again?" he asked hopefully. "Hello, Silrinil," he murmured, inclining his head slightly. Then he frowned, seeing the evidence of tears. "Something wrong?" he asked, looking at Legolas with sudden hostility.

She smiled faintly, shaking her head, stepping up a little so she could touch Legolas's sleeve, relieving him of blame for her condition.

Legolas accepted the girl, realizing he hadn't asked her name yet… and hadn't been informed of her impending birth, nor, in fact, told of her existence. He would have to have a word with Waristan. Later. Once the two she-elves touching him were soothed. The infant was easy enough, latching onto him gladly, slipping into a desperately needed slumber before he passed her back. "I would like a few words with you sometime, Waristan—but don't worry about it for now. Take care of her."

Waristan wasn't listening. "Silrinil?" he asked softly, before looking down at his daughter. "_Is_ something wrong?"

Legolas looked at her sharply, and noted the struck look. "Dismissed," he commanded abruptly, sending the other elf off. "Linir?" he asked, touching her shoulder lightly.

She jerked at the touch, staring up at him for a moment, before her focus returned and became intense, as if she could see into him. On the chance she'd picked up that ability in her travels, he didn't hide from her.

With a small whimper she turned aside, then took a deep breath, covered her mouth with her hand… and _bolted_. There was no other word for the sudden race away from him.

It took him only a moment before he was after her, taking the halls that no one was likely to use—soon seeing her ahead as she fumbled with her lock, slamming the door shut behind her.

Hoping she hadn't locked it, he tried the handle, but was stuck on the side other than he had wished to be. "Linir?" he asked, pressing his ear to the wood panel.

"Go away," she whispered, before a shaking breath caught.

She was crying.

"Open the door," he pleaded softly.

Another choking breath.

He dropped his forehead to the wood, thinking quickly. Elleri probably had a key, if anyone other than the cleaning servant did… and that old elf would never give him the key, no matter what he might say. Unless there was blood seeping out from under the door—

He stopped the thought, the image, shuddering, and went to his own room, passing through it to Elleri's. He checked the place he used to keep her key, and sighed in relief, picking the new one up. "I'll explain later," he murmured to his absent brother, before returning to her room, unlocking it before locking it behind him, pocketing both keys, hoping he could keep her from reaching the third, wherever she kept it.

She was kneeling just a few steps within the door, rocking slightly, a hand over her eyes and another clenched tightly to her middle. She was so caught up in her misery that he was behind her before she knew he had opened the door—she started when he wrapped his arms around her.

She pulled away, rushing to her feet, moving a bit shakily to the bag that held her wandering supplies… always ready, he noted bitterly. When she picked it up, he realized what she was doing and rushed over, pulling the bag from her fingers.

"No, Linir. Not like this."

She shuddered and reached for it. "But I… I can't stay."

"I'll speak to Ada, Linir. I'll make him see." If he had to, he'd tell his father that if he drove her away, he would go after her… and wander with her, if she didn't want to return.

She shook her head. "It's not him, Legolas. It's me… it's us."

"Us?" he repeated, voice devoid of his emotions. He wasn't sure if he should be glad there _was_ an 'us', or upset that it was clearly something of a problem for her.

"All of you—Thranduil, Verine, Morsallien, Elleri, you… when you find out…"

"What? Afraid we won't want you here?" he asked, attempting a smile which fell completely flat when she shivered. "Linir!" he exclaimed, pulling her into a hug. "I can't imagine _anything_ would make us want you to leave."

She didn't respond, and didn't accept his touch.

He sighed, walking her back until she was sitting on the bed. He knelt before her, hands on her knees to reassure her he was there… and to give him warning if she tried to bolt again. "Have you killed anyone who wasn't trying to kill you?"

She hesitated.

"Orcs and spiders don't count," he amended.

She still hesitated.

"Intentionally?" he asked, beginning to get a little concerned.

She shook her head.

He squeezed her knees. "Didn't sell yourself to Morgoth or something, right?"

She managed a weak smile as she shook her head, but another salty drop fell to grace her cheek.

He brushed it away when it was clear she was going to let it stay. "Then I can't think of anything that would make us want you to leave." As he watched her stare at something in his general vicinity, the circumstances of her sudden desire to run caught up with him. "It has something to do with the child?"

Slowly she nodded.

"Did you steal one?"

She shook her head.

Suddenly his chest tightened. "Did you have one?"

A hesitant shake… before her eyes closed, two more tears falling from her eyes.

"But you wanted to." It was hard to breathe.

She tilted her head, shaking it, then nodding, then shaking it again. She lifted a hand to her eyes once more, trying to draw her knees up.

He rose, picking her up, settling her into the center of the bed, letting her curl up. He laid down in front of her, a hand on her shoulder so he could still stop her if she ran. He waited.

Eventually the hand not holding her middle fell from her eyes, resting under her chin. "I… was too inexperienced when it happened," she murmured, looking through him. "The binding overwhelmed me…" she smiled wryly. "Even though I think it was incomplete."

"Why?"

"Aren't you supposed to sense the other after the binding?" she asked softly.

"Usually," he agreed, with a faint frown.

"As soon as we were no longer touching, I couldn't sense him."

"Can you now?"

She took a deep breath. He reached up and lightly brushed her hair back. She shook her head. "Not at the moment."

He nodded, then half-shrugged. "It's possible that you were too young for it to fully happen… or it wasn't intended."

"Well, _I_ hadn't given it any thought," she grumbled.

He realized, quite suddenly, that she was, at best, ambivalent about her binding. "You left because you didn't want to be bound?"

She closed her eyes, curling up a little more. "He didn't want to be."

He tugged her closer, resting his chin against the top of her head. "Then he was a fool."

He could almost feel her faint, quick smile, before she shuddered and reached out slightly, touching his side. He rolled her over, spooning her against him. She relaxed slowly, letting him link their fingers against her stomach.

"I didn't know, when I left."

"Know what?"

She was silent long enough he propped himself up slightly to look down at her. She took a shuddering breath, eyes closed. "That I was with child."

His stomach clenched. "How long before you lost it?"

"Not long," she sighed, trembling slightly. "I couldn't even reach it yet."

"How?"

She shook her head. "It was a foolish mistake I would never make now—I didn't know the land, didn't know the danger… I was chased by orcs off a cliff, into a lake. I was too injured to get far, but pushed myself too hard to get away before they could catch up. With all my injuries… it was too much." She was silent for a long moment, before her body shook against his own. "Valar, how I wanted that child. I hadn't intended it, but the thought of having part of him with me…"

He held her a bit closer. "He never knew."

"Obviously."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Why?" she asked softly.

He hesitated. "It… well, he is bound to you, as well…"

She shook her head slightly. "I've seen no evidence of that."

"He has to be, Linir, or you wouldn't be bound to him. It's pained you too much to be without him," he held her for a long while, giving her what comfort his touch might allow. Eventually he sighed, knowing he had to leave but also that he didn't want to. "I should go talk to Ada, tell him what an idiot he is."

"Don't… don't tell…"

"Of course not, Linir," he murmured softly, hugging her closer for a moment. He kissed her cheek before getting up. "Do you want a meal sent up?"

"I couldn't eat," she replied softly.

With a nod he removed the keys from his pocket, opening the door, leaving one key on the hook beside it as he stepped through. After locking it, he headed swiftly down the hall to his father's study.

He walked in without knocking.

Thranduil looked up in surprise, blinking when he saw Legolas. "Well. Shut the door before you explode."

Legolas slammed the door and stalked forward, eyes narrowed on the elf he currently felt no affection for. "If you try to make her tell, she will run, Ada."

"She can't keep it bottled up forever, Legolas. If she would just tell _someone_—"

"Then you can be at peace. She has."

"You know why she left?"

"More or less."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning even when she's being candid I get the feeling she is holding something back."

"Well… why did she leave?"

Legolas shook his head. "No, Ada."

"Legolas, I—"

"No."

Thranduil pursed his lips. "Must I remind you that _I_ am the King?"

"And me just a lowly crowned prince? Throw me in the dungeons if you like, Ada. It is her secret."

"Entrusted to you."

"Yes. And I will keep it, until she no longer does." He focused intently on his father. "Well? Shall she run and I hand my group over to the other Captains?"

Thranduil sighed. "You know you shan't. Neither of you."


	23. The real stumbling block

_**Chapter 23 The real stumbling block**_

With an impatient exhalation Legolas shook his head and strode from the halls, letting the dark wood embrace him quickly.

Ferien hadn't come, as he had said he would.

Well, he couldn't really be blamed…

Most elves didn't like venturing into the forest in a group of warriors, much less all but alone.

Of course, he wasn't most elves…

And he needed the time alone. Or, nearly alone, as in deference to Thranduil's long standing wishes as regarded his sons he had been dragging someone else along with him on these little 'trips.'

He took a deep breath and stopped walking, lifting a hand to his brow, covering his eyes as he tried to fight off the reasons behind his solitary behavior.

He had not felt this desperate need to get away from the halls since his mother had died, and it had been more than two thousand years since then. His father had been furious that day he came in after a near-disastrous encounter with a spider, and had spoken the words that Legolas was only now willfully disobeying.

There were times, of course, that he had to be a small ways from the other elves—his role as Captain demanded it. Demanded that he be at ease within the wood, despite the danger, even when alone.

Whether born of that need or something else entirely, Legolas _did_ feel at ease here, as if he was meant to wander the paths beneath the boughs.

With a sigh he kept walking, ears listening for anything out of place, eyes less alert as he lazed into thoughts as he wandered.

If any of his siblings noticed his sudden return to his old habits to deal with something beyond his current abilities, they had not yet spoken of it, though Elleri had frowned at him this morning when he left so armed… as they had only just gotten in from a spider patrol.

His father wouldn't have noticed unless told by someone that he was spending his time beyond the safety of stone.

It was foolish, perhaps, to wander so much for so long, but he could think of nothing else he could do. He was drawn to her, constantly, and had to forever distance himself. Though, really, if she wanted to find him, she would surely be able to… as she alone seemed as at ease in the wood as he felt.

Which was, essentially, the problem. She…

She _fit_.

She simply fit.

There was no part of his life he couldn't find her in, nothing about him that wasn't her as well. They viewed the world and their place in it with the same disgruntled acceptance, cynicism and, at times, spite. Their titles were of no value to them except as fancy chains, binding them to a place they would sometimes rather leave behind…

There were too many such things that lay between them for him to consider them all. They would simply depress him.

For so many years he had been hoping to find one who could fit into his life with such ease. He hadn't really thought on love… because having never found it, he hadn't been all that sure it was real. As she had once so aptly said—how do I know true love exists? Love, certainly, but what if true love is simply a fable from stories? A fragment of romantic folly magnified into something the majority of us believe in?

Now he knew, or at least thought he knew, that there really was love in that fashion—eternal companionship, not merely desire… and his stupid unruly heart had chosen her…

Well. He had to admit she was the only _real_ choice he had ever been presented. No other had held his attention a fraction of the time she had, and he showed no signs of becoming bored with her as he had with others.

Still, it was impossible to get around her binding. He simply _could not_ try and become more than a brother, a captain, perhaps a friend, because _she_ couldn't accept anyone other than her mate as anything more than a friend.

_He_—whoever he was—hadn't wanted to be bound to her. She hadn't planned on being bound to him. In such a situation it was logical to believe that they were simply meant to be. That, given time together, they would simply fall into place.

It was a sobering thought, but he seemed unable to stop himself from wishing he were the one she was bound to. No matter what he told himself, no matter how often he caught that faint sadness in her eyes, he just _couldn't_ stop.

He'd forced himself out of pursuing or even liking she-elves before, because a friend or fellow captain had liked them as well… and admittedly, was more likely to settle down than he had ever been.

Before Silrinil returned, and stepped into her father's place…

Sort of. Admittedly she wasn't Thranduil's advisor, nor his best friend, but she had somehow become Legolas's…

Which was another thing that worried him, though he couldn't bring himself to consider it as much as he did the larger problem. She and Elleri had been the greatest of friends before, and now Elleri, with his own patrol to deal with, had little time to spend with her… and usually what time she had free was either with Legolas or a book, any more.

Elleri had looked between them, seeming in the same moment baffled and all-knowing—as if he was on the edge of a major discovery that would change the known world, but couldn't quite grab onto it.

Legolas jerked to the side and glanced at the tree with a incendiary glare that was entirely self-directed. He was by far too distracted by her if he nearly walked into a tree. For Eru's sake, he could walk a safe path when _asleep_ most days.

Not that he did, of course…

He shook his head and began walking again, vaguely aware he had wandered farther than usual when accompanied by another, nervous elf.

At the very _least_, he cared deeply for Silrinil, and wanted to see her happy. That wish would seem to dictate reuniting her with her mate.

Problem.

He didn't _want_ to reunite them, for many reasons, several of which were admittedly selfish.

But he could get beyond those.

The real stumbling block that had kept him from trying to press for details about her mate so he could find the lucky idiot and lock them in a room together until they were properly bound was the very horrendous way she had described him—not wanting their binding.

For any elf to deny a natural binding like that was not only against all common sense and the values of all elves, it was _unnatural_. And he really didn't want to send her off to be with some elf who didn't know how good a thing he had in an unprompted binding.

The binding could be helped along for a married couple, but their binding could never be as strong as it was in two souls who simply _knew_ and met, whether the minds attached understood or anticipated it or not.

And so she was bound to that unnamed fool, and always would be. The natural bond was—by her description—a bit stronger than any newly wedded couple's would be. It would grow stronger with repeated touch, with time. With intent. With expectation.

He could never compete with that, which he damned well knew…

Yet he _still_ couldn't give her up. Not to someone who didn't appreciate her…

He snorted. "Not that _you_ appreciated her before she left," he muttered, arms crossed tightly over his chest. She was just Elleri's friend then. Just Lady Silrinil. Elleri's Rin.

But now she had truly become his Linir, at least in his mind.

"Admit it," he grumbled. In his _heart._

Unbeknownst to him, his steps had become rougher with his anger, his pain, and he was now making far more noise than any elf would, connecting to the earth with more strength than was common.

Unknown, at least, until he stepped _through_ the ground, and began falling.

The delayed moment of reaction as he was jerked from his thoughts so rudely was his undoing—he had no time to catch the ground before it was gone, and he was bumping along the sheer wall formed of rock and dirt, carved out by ages of water and wind to be nearly solidly smooth. The few rocks he could reach were too smooth to grab hold of, too close to the rest of the wall, so he continued to fall, occasionally dislodging a rock or bit of dirt as he went.

He landed in a pile of debris at the bottom, and took a moment to take stock of himself and his surroundings, as he should have been doing _all along_. He was much farther south than he would have anticipated, and the day was much farther along than he would have liked. He was now face down in what had at one time been a riverbed, flat stones mixed with the dust he was coated in from the fall.

As for injuries…

Minor bruises most everywhere, except his head—he'd long ago learned to fall to protect _that_. His right wrist hurt badly enough he knew the healers would be binding it tightly when he returned. His breath came in all right, so at least he hadn't broken any ribs this time—if he had the choice, he much preferred breaking limbs to ribs.

He shifted slightly, and sighed carefully. Apparently, the Valar had taken him up on that thought. At least his right leg was broken… in at least one spot. He tried to get up, braced for the pain… but nothing happened. Besides the searing pain, that is.

He looked back and began swearing steadily, perversely glad for the moment that none of his patrol were present so he was free to do so with impunity.

The annoying realization that he wouldn't be pinned to the ancient riverbed with broken bones and a leg without any feeling if he _had_ had any of them along made him swear succinctly once more.

He took a few moments to compose himself, to think, then turned as much as he could to look at that boulder. After hesitating, he managed to almost get into a kneeling position so he could try to lift the rock.

It was behind him, though, and it put too much pressure on his right leg… and his wrist. He was incapable of moving it while pinned beneath it, it was as simple as that.

His bow and quiver were lost somewhere along the way—maybe even at the top of the hill. He hadn't been wearing his daggers. As for his sword…

He looked ruefully at the tiny bit of the sheath he could see beneath the rock.

So, he thought, the problem ends here, as soon as those spiders decide that one pinned elf might make something of a more pleasant treat than orcs.


	24. His pride or his life

This chapter is early because my computer is acting up terribly--it doesn't want to do the simplist commands, so I'm contemplating starting it all over, which will necessitate slower updates, as I won't be on-line anymore.

* * *

_**Chapter 24 His pride or his life**_

A soft knock sounded on the door.

"Come in," she murmured, turning the page.

"Evening, Rin. Have you seen Legolas?"

She blinked at him. "No. Isn't he back yet?"

"Back?"

"He's been wandering through the woods recently."

Elleri frowned. "Since when?"

"It's been a while," she murmured softly, not about to admit what had preceded his sudden interest in wandering.

"But he's always back in time to clean up for dinner, right?"

"Mm-hmm."

"He's not here…"

She glanced up at him. "You're sure?"

"I've been looking for him. I thought you would know." Elleri shrugged. "Oh well. I guess he'll turn up sometime. Maybe he took some food along."

"Maybe," she agreed with a faint frown. Elleri left and she tried to return to her reading, but a nagging feeling grabbed a hold of her and wouldn't let go. With a troubled sigh she put the book down and donned her circlet for the meal.

Elleri smiled faintly at her when she joined him at dinner. "Evening."

"So you said," she murmured. "Did you find him?"

He shook his head. "No. Ferien said he was supposed to meet him at the gate, but wasn't there when he arrived."

"He was probably late," she muttered. "But he was planning to go?"

"Apparently. If he hasn't come back by morning, we'll start looking for him."

She frowned faintly and toyed with her food before giving up on even that. Slowly she brought a hand to her chest, pressing against it. She shook her head. "No."

"No? No what?" Elleri asked, glancing over at her.

"No, we won't wait until morning. We can't."

"Why not?"

She bit her lip and pressed a little more firmly. "Because he needs to be found _now_."

"Silrinil, Legolas is quite capable of taking care of himself—"

"No one can take care of themselves all the time," she hissed, getting to her feet. "He needs help, Elleri. Are you coming?"

He gaped at her, but after a helpless glance around the hall got up and raced after her, after motioning at Terine and Jietere. They caught up with him as she appeared on Citron, her sword already at her side. "Silrinil, I—"

"Believe me or not, come or not. I don't care." She guided her horse out.

"Wait for us—a few minutes!" he called, knowing otherwise she would be out of sight before they were prepared.

"What's going on?"

"Legolas is missing, she thinks there's something wrong, and won't wait until morning."

They frowned faintly, then shrugged. "Doesn't hurt to look, does it?"

"Maybe his pride."

"His pride or possibly his life?" a familiar voice hissed. "Hurry up, or I leave without you."

With a roll of his eyes Elleri grabbed a spare bow, quiver, and sword from the weapons storeroom, then accepted his horse while the other captains did the same. The three rode out to find her horse pacing nervously just outside the gates.

She snorted and tore off into the wood as soon as she saw they were ready.

"Rin!" Elleri called a few minutes later when they finally caught up. "How do you know—" he stilled when she stopped, her eyes closing as she pressed a palm to her chest. "How do you know which way he went?" he asked, drawing up alongside her.

Her eyes snapped open, and she took off once more without answering. Suddenly she stopped once more, seeming to listen for something. Again she took off into the night, this time with more urgency than before.

Maybe it was the wild flight, maybe it was her certainty, but dread was slowly gripping the other elves, energy racing through them as she led them they knew not where. They drew their weapons when she suddenly paused, letting loose an arrow.

"Thank Eru," they heard a soft, familiar mutter. "Careful on the way down—that first step's a long one."

Silrinil snorted and dismounted, walking over to look down. "How did you manage that?" she asked, shooting another arrow.

The spider scurried back into the wood, hissing with pain.

"Please, don't ask," he muttered.

She chuckled softly and fastened her bow, judging the distances. With two careful jumps she was beside him, wincing. "How bad is it?"

"Don't know. Haven't felt my leg since I landed."

Biting her lip she circled the rock. "Can you shift it?"

"Not at this angle—my wrist is too hurt to be of much good."

She nodded slightly. "Alright, then let's—"

"Hello, Legolas," Terine murmured, as the horses finally found safe passage down. "We'll get you out in no time."

Jietere drew his sword to hack at the still twitching spider, ending its life quickly. Thus unconcerned with the spiders hissing from the wood a ways away, the four elves easily lifted the boulder and held it as Legolas wormed out from under it. "Much better, eh?"

"Sure," Legolas hissed, as feeling—entirely pain—was restored to his leg. "I think someone else is going to have to lead my patrol for a while."

"Obviously," Silrinil agreed, eyeing his leg.

"Just be glad we found you," Jietere murmured cheekily.

"I am," Legolas agreed.

"I… I don't know how she knew, Legolas, but it's Rin you need to thank," Elleri admitted, rather pale.

"Oh?" Legolas asked, lifted a brow at her as Terine tried to lift him to his feet.

Silrinil said nothing, just coaxed her horse down the bank to join her.

"Yes… she not only knew that you needed help, but where to find you… Valar only knows how."

Legolas noted a slight tension to her shoulders.

The world crashed in on him. "Linir?" he rasped.

She shuddered and reached up, tangling her fingers in Citron's mane…

There was only one way she could have _known_. One way she could have found him. His breath left him in a whoosh, dropping him to the ground despite Terine's best efforts. As everything came together it was at once perfectly clear and terribly disjointed. He groaned. "Linir?" he managed, trying to see her… but all he saw was her riding off as quickly as Citron could carry her.

"Rin?" Elleri called after her, concern and confusion warring within him as he turned to Legolas. "Legolas, what…?"

It took Legolas a long time before he was able to speak, "Get us back to the halls, _now_," he growled, all but climbing up Terine so he was able to get onto Elleri's horse.

Elleri mounted behind him, but didn't move. "Legolas, what—"

"If we don't get back _very_ quickly, she's going to leave, Elleri. Is that clear enough for you?"

Elleri blinked and then spoke to his horse, sending him quickly after her. "You'll explain soon?"

"As soon as I have it straight in my own head," he groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "Ride into the wing—don't let her get a head start," he commanded when they made it back. When he started to get down, Elleri stopped him.

"You need to go to the healers, Legolas."

"No," he countered savagely, gritting his teeth against the pain. "I need to stop her."

"I'll stop her."

"You _can't_. You don't know why she's leaving!"

"So, tell me why."

Legolas shook his head, understanding why she had never wanted to explain… especially to his father. "I can't."

Elleri frowned, but helped him down. "Why?"

"Elleri, not now! Get the blasted key!"

Elleri narrowed his eyes and stared at him for a long moment. Then he crossed his arms over his chest. "Not until you tell me why she's going to run." When confronted with Legolas's furious silence, he made a guess. "Did you two do something?"

Legolas looked away.

Elleri groaned. "Legolas! It's _Rin_! How could you just—"

Legolas lifted a shaking hand to his head. "It's not _Rin_, Elleri, it's Linir. My Linir," he murmured the last softly, the hand falling to press against his chest as he closed his eyes. "Please, Elleri. Unless you want to lose us both, get the key before she's ready to leave!"

After a moment Elleri fetched the key, helping Legolas into the room.

Legolas sighed in relief to see her pack sitting as ever against the wall, and snatched the key sitting on the table. "Lock the door on your way out," he murmured, handing the key over.

"Legolas?" he asked quietly, glancing at the entrance to the bathing room where they could hear a flurry of movement. "I don't think this a wise idea."

"Perhaps it is the first wise command I have given. Please, my brother. Do this."

Elleri sighed, then finally nodded, moving to the mantle to pick up the key which was unaccounted for. "But you _will_ explain this later."

"In all the detail you can stomach," Legolas sighed, accepting help into a chair. He grimaced at the pain and hoped that she would at least refrain from attacking him physically when she found out she couldn't leave.

"I'll open the door in the morning… you know it will only hurt more if you put off seeing the healers."

Legolas nodded, and heard the door behind him close, the soft sound of the lock clicking over loud and satisfying… as well as not a small bit frightening.

Hearing a soft noise before him, he opened his eyes, looking up into wide, dark eyes that were reddened with tears.

He took a deep breath as he studied her, and finally worked up the courage to say something. "What did I do to make you leave?"


	25. What he did

_**Chapter 25 What he did**_

In her eyes he could see a flicker of the hate he hadn't seen in months, but he thought he understood… not that it hurt any less. "Nothing more than murmur another name after the binding."

He let out a breath, letting his eyes fall as he processed her words. "I was—"

"Intoxicated."

"I was going to say drunk, but if you want to be nice about it, intoxicated works."

She stared at him, not moving, still tense.

He sighed and started to run a hand through his hair, only to come back with a leaf. He grimaced and shook his head. "I didn't know, Linir."

She muttered a word that sounded rather like a curse, but he didn't know that particular dwarven dialect to be sure.

"You left during the night?"

She shook her head. "I would not sneak out like a thief in the midst of night. I left just before dawn."

"I had obviously had quite a bit to drink, or I wouldn't have…"

"Bedded your little brother's best friend," she inserted.

He grimaced again, but nodded, accepting her words. "I didn't know who I was with…"

There was a faint twitch around her eyes—a flinch she wouldn't quite allow herself.

"When I woke, I did so with all the joy and happy contentment I'd imagine you'd felt…"

"Before you spoke," she cut in.

He covered his eyes and sighed. "Silrinil, please. I know why you must sometimes hate me, but please, we need to get this out."

After watching him for a long while she blew out an exasperated breath and hauled him to his feet, nearly carrying him into the bathroom.

"Um… Linir?"

"I'm not going to drown you," she muttered, before walking into the spring, still pulling him along. "But I can't handle talking about old wounds while you have new ones that haven't been tended."

With that, she set to work, loosening the braids in his hair, stripping him of his tunic and undershirt, his boots and leggings. She left to get her pack, bringing it into the room only to overturn it onto the floor, catching the rolling jars before they could wander very far.

Tender fingers explored his bruises, the few small scrapes, soothing and healing as only she could. When she reached his legs he tensed slightly, waiting for the gentle fingers to become rough as his bones were straightened.

She didn't disappoint.

Without scolding him for his language she waited for the pain to ease before reaching for the soap, helping him get clean. She even combed his hair before hauling him out of the water, carrying him bodily to her bed where she wrapped his breaks and wounds as best she could. She returned to the bathing room and reappeared a few minutes later, clean and changed. She sat facing him, and waited.

Taking a deep breath, he nodded slightly. "I wasn't against the binding, Linir. I would never be against a true binding, especially my own. I didn't even know it had happened…" he shook his head with a faint snort. "I missed the one I'd thought I'd been with, but there was no evidence I had been with anyone, so I had just tried to convince myself it had been nothing more than the wine and a dream when Elleri ran through my room to reach yours. I had to look after him. I didn't have time to think about it for quite a while…"

"And by then you were sure it was a dream?"

He nodded, closing his eyes. "I am sorry, for what it's worth. I shouldn't have been drunk, to begin with, but to call you by another's name was unforgivable."

After a long silence she reached out, lightly touching his hand. He turned it until they were aligned a bit better, and relaxed slightly at the contact. "If our places were reversed, what would you have done?"

"Entirely reversed?"

She nodded.

He tugged on her hand, encouraging her forward a bit until their hips were touching. Then he thought about her question. If he had been the rather young—almost too young—Lady Silrinil, just bedded by her best friend's elder brother who also happened to be the crowned prince, and the son of the elf who had taken her in as if kin when her own parents died… he frowned suddenly. "Were you drunk, too?"

"I… was a little more so than I would usually have been…"

"But not so that you are unclear as to what happened."

She shook her head, ears darkening.

He found that rather charming, but forced himself to pick up his thoughts again. "Why did you let me bed you, Silrinil?"

With a sigh she looked somewhat away, but didn't pull her hand from his. "Elleri and I always looked up to you, Legolas. It was a sort of hero-worship at times, and…"

He blinked at her. "I didn't notice you looking at me like _that_."

"I didn't want you to. I didn't want _Elleri_ to know, much less _you_."

He nodded slightly. Okay. So, if he had been her, just bedded by her best friend's older brother on whom she had been harboring a secret infatuation with, only to have the elf with whom she'd just unwittingly bound her soul murmur another she-elf's name before settling down to well-deserved rest… He sighed. "At the _least_, I would not have been in that bed come morning." He leaned his head back against the wall. "Perhaps I would have run, too… but that showed courage I wouldn't have credited you with, then."

"I discovered I was stronger and more stubborn than even Elleri might ever have guessed that dreadful morning. I grew up rather quickly, I guess you could say."

He tightened his hand around hers. "Then why did you come back?"

"I… I _was_ aware of the binding, Legolas. I could feel it. It pulled at me whenever I was near the wood. From time to time I would wait, see if I thought I could go back. But every time I heard your voice or saw you I would end up feeling so torn I had to leave again. When I first left I swore I would never tell you…"

"Why?" he asked, his frustrations from the past months erupting in harsh tones. "What if I had unknowingly tried to marry?"

She flinched, paling.

"You hadn't thought of that, had you?" he asked softly, his anger drained by her telling reaction. He released her hand to lightly caress her cheek. "You just thought about your own pain and embarrassment, and didn't consider what it might be like for me when you came back."

Her frown told him she wasn't following.

"I didn't know our souls are bound, Silrinil. Can you imagine how much it worried me to be so worried for you in Imladris that I could _feel_ that you were in desperate need of aid?" He forced her head back when she looked away. "How much I despised myself for wanting to get closer to you, while wanting to send you back to your mate? I've had to distance myself from you so I didn't do something that was totally inappropriate, considering that you were already married!"

"To you!" she shot back.

He held her head in place when she tried to jerk away in her anger. "But _I_ didn't know that. After nearly three thousand years of being the controlled crowned prince, do you know how unsettling it was to have you return? To find myself unable to ignore you, to let you go? No matter how much I hated or wanted you, I couldn't seem to just relegate you to the position of soldier. You were always more… and I didn't understand _why._"

Her lashes lowered to hide her eyes.

"It was because my soul recognized you, knew about our bond, and wanted to deepen it. Or haven't you felt it too?" His last words were almost a whisper, but they had effect.

A shiver ran over her frame, her lids slowly rising to fasten intense dark grey eyes upon him. Flashes from the night forgotten flitted before his eyes—skin on skin, a pant, a breathy sigh, a fevered groan. A low sound escaped him, and whoever had moved, it didn't matter. They were locked together in a savage kiss, one that brought the faint memories to shame.

It wasn't until he tried to move her that he recalled his injuries, his body stiffening against hers.

"Legolas?" she asked, her voice uneven, ears flushed.

He released a measured breath and held her tightly. "Shh, love," he murmured, kissing her crown. "We can't do this now," he sighed, easing himself slowly flat against the mattress. He carefully tried to move his legs, but the pain refused to allow him.

"Legolas, you should go to the healers."

"Are you staying?"

She smiled a bit shyly, but nodded.

He caught her for a kiss, then half-shrugged. "The door is locked."

"So? I'll unlock it." Then she lifted a brow at some telling expression on his face. "Legolas?" she asked, her tone warning.

He looked at the ceiling.

"What did you do?"

He looked directly into her eyes then, his own darkened slightly but completely unrepentant. "I couldn't lose you, Silrinil. Not when I was beginning to think _I_ was the idiot who had let you go all those years ago."

Her brow remained quirked in question.

"Elleri has the keys."

"Keys?" she asked.

"Three of them, at least."

She scowled for a moment, then shook her head and got up. "Dinner has long been over, hasn't it?"

"Yes. Why?"

She didn't answer, just pulled herself onto the mantle over the fireplace, and tapped along the stones until one rattled. She worked her fingers around it, pulling it out slowly, then set it down at her feet.

"What are you _doing?_" he asked.

She glared over her shoulder. "Hey, Ver?"

"Yes?" The soft voice floated oddly through the small opening.

Legolas groaned.

"Your brother locked me and Legolas into my room—Legolas needs a healer. Could you help?"

Legolas could hear a soft mutter and knew Elleri was in for an earful… and then he was, too, once the full story got out.

A few minutes later, a knock came on the door. Silrinil shoved the stone back into place and jumped lightly down. "Just open the door, Ri."

"Legolas?"

She glance back, understanding then the full extent of what he had done.

If she ran, he couldn't stop her, and he wouldn't be able to follow. Watching her, there was only one thing he could do. "Open the door, Elleri."

The door slowly opened, and Elleri poked his head in. His brows lifted when he saw Legolas. "Well…"

"Later, Ri," Silrinil murmured. "Do you want to call for a healer, or take him to one?"

Legolas rested his good arm behind his head. "I'm quite comfortable here."

She lifted a brow, but to Elleri's clear shock she chuckled as she moved to the bed, climbing in beside him, resting her cheek on his chest. "Me, too," she murmured, toying with the pendant he wore.


	26. Highly inappropriate

Hi, all. Thanks for the reviews, I can't respond to them right now because the internet is acting up... still. I'm also starting a new story today, or trying to, which means I have to rush and get goping before it freezes up again. Bye!

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_**Chapter 26 Highly inappropriate**_

After the annoyance of not knowing where his son was when he sent for him, then to find him _not_ in his room as suggested by the few servants who seemed to know _anything_ about why Legolas wasn't with his patrol…

Well, he was annoyed.

Beyond annoyed, really, because Elleri had suggested Silrinil's room, hedging around any questions he was asked, and all but fleeing when finally dismissed in irritation.

The door had been locked, and no knocking had produced an answer…

But he'd gotten the feeling he might not get one.

So he'd ordered the elf who cleaned Silrinil's room be tracked down, and then ordered her to hand over the key… which she had only grudgingly done. A loyal elf, that one… perhaps _too_ loyal, really. Perhaps he should rethink having a key for each lock in the halls made available to _him_ alone. Now he jammed the blasted key into the lock on Silrinil's door, twisting almost savagely.

He did _not_ like having to hunt his son down himself. None of the messengers he'd sent could find him, and weren't they supposed to _know_ where people were? At least his children, anyway.

With a grumble he opened the door, eyes sweeping past the dying fire and empty chairs.

His gaze sharpened on a pair of haphazardly discarded leggings. Either Silrinil wasn't all that tidy, or she had a… _visitor_.

Unwillingly, unerringly, his eyes sought the bed, discerning two shapes upon it, covered by the dark blankets save for a tiny bit of one foot. Two _entangled_, utterly relaxed shapes. Through his disappointment, he had trouble deciding if he should go away and leave her be, or ask her if she knew where Legolas was, though that seemed rather unlikely.

Before he had made up his mind, one of them stirred. A silvery-blond head lifted slightly from the mess of covers, exposing a fair amount of her skin as he shifted, rolling over with a faint smile, pulling her along.

He saw the intruder's outline in the door and reacted quickly, drawing a blanket up over his lover before glancing sharply for his clothing, seeming dissatisfied with what he found. Or didn't find. "Well?" he demanded sharply.

"I think it is my place to ask questions, Legolas," Thranduil informed him stiffly, moving so the light of the hall no longer made him into a faceless shadow. He closed the door and picked a pair of leggings off the closest chair, tossing them at his son before seating himself without invitation, knowing one was not likely forthcoming.

Legolas picked them up, studying them for a moment, and then rested them lightly on the covers hiding the yet dozing Silrinil. "What can there possibly be to ask, Ada? I would think things self-explanatory."

"And I would think you'd have more sense."

Legolas stiffened, his eyes narrowing. "Ada," he growled softly.

"She's Elleri's best friend, Legolas. You've never shown such an inclination before—she was practically a little sister!"

"Never," he hissed.

Silrinil took that moment to begin waking, stretching slightly. She tilted her head to Legolas, frowning, lifting a hand to run lightly over his bare back. "What's wrong?"

"Ada," he muttered.

"So, we'll tell him soon," she murmured quietly, leaning forward a bit, kissing his right shoulder, eyes still slightly glazed with lingering dreams.

"Not that, Linir," Legolas murmured softly. "He knows."

"Is that a problem?"

"It seems to be."

"Why?"

Legolas may have always admitted Elleri knew more about females, but he knew enough. He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to it. "He seems to view this as nearing on incestuous."

She sat up sleepily, resting her cheek against his back, her arms sliding around him. "That's ridiculous," she murmured, snuggling against him. "I barely knew you before joining the service."

He smiled absently, pulling the covers up again.

"I'm warm enough," she murmured, looking at him curiously for his insistence in covering her. "What's the matter?" she asked a moment later, lifting a questioning hand to his cheek as she blinked the last of sleep away.

He rested his forehead against hers, taking a long moment to kiss her gently. "Why don't you go soak for a while? I'll join you once Ada's left."

Her head snapped around to see the King in one of her chairs. To the surprise of both males, she didn't flush or move to cover herself. She took a moment to calmly study him and then shook her head. "No."

With a quirked smile for her stubborn defense, he kissed her lightly behind her ear. "Go, mate," he whispered.

She smiled up at him for the term and gave in to his wish, cupping his cheek, insisting on another kiss before she stretched, swinging her legs off the bed and rising, walking gracefully from the room.

Legolas wasn't aware he'd been staring until Thranduil cleared his throat. He looked back at his father, rearranging himself into a more comfortable position before speaking. "She's right, Ada. I had very little to do with her back then."

"And now she is a soldier in your command."

"You certainly had no problems with her position in the service before," Legolas murmured quietly.

Thranduil's eyes narrowed, sensing something in Legolas's mild tone that he knew he wouldn't like when fully explained. "Before you weren't her lover. It's highly inappropriate for you to remain her Captain. She shall have to report to another or leave the service."

"Why? Nothing has really changed."

"Are you saying your relationship changes _nothing?_" Thranduil asked, still floundering for solid ground.

"I'm saying it changes nothing that wasn't already in place when she returned."

Thranduil stared blankly at him. Then he shook his head. "Who will she report to?"

"Me."

"No, Legolas. I cannot allow you to have such a relationship with one in your command."

"As I'm crowned prince, doesn't that exclude all Mirkwood elves?" Legolas asked dryly.

"You know what I mean."

"Yes. And as I've said, nothing has changed since you agreed to allow her to enter the service… though really, it should have been my decision."

Thranduil frowned, the feeling of impending trouble growing more intense. "Why would it have been _your_ decision, Legolas? _I_ took her in when her father died."

"Yes. But as her husband, it was more my decision, wasn't it?"

For a long moment Thranduil wondered if this was what it was like to be human—forever doubting his senses. "You are not married."

"Not with sanctioned vows, Ada, true. But our souls were bound long ago."

Thranduil lifted a hand to his brow, long fingers rubbing at his temple. "So you did sleep with her before."

"Yes. Once. Our souls bound…"

"And?" Thranduil asked softly.

Legolas shook his head. "I'd have to speak with her about that."

"Then why not call her back? As she's been listening at the door, anyway."

Legolas half-smiled as she sighed, returning to him. He wrapped her in his arms, holding her so she was as covered as he felt she would allow, considering the lingering heat in the room. He kissed her shoulder. "What do you think?"

She hesitated, and he tightened his hold, sending calm and peace to her. She relaxed, resting her head against his. "And I conceived a child," she murmured at last, finishing Legolas's statement.

Thranduil sighed wearily, sure that _sometime_ today, things were going to be normal. It just obviously wasn't going to be anytime soon. "Where is the child?"

She shook her head. "I was attacked, injured… It was lost before old enough for me to commune with, though I tried."

"Why did you leave?"

"A private misunderstanding, Uncle," she murmured.

He looked between them for a moment, and considered everything, mentally swearing as he figured out what Jarthey had seen. What Elrond had no doubt seen. It was also fairly obvious why they hadn't told him, at least before working things out. "Your souls were bound before you left?"

"Yes," she murmured, but tilted her head slightly.

Legolas kissed her neck before lifting his head, pinning his father with a look that allowed no questions. "I wasn't aware of it…"

She sighed, rubbing his arm.

He nodded slightly. "I wasn't aware of having bedded her," he admitted. "That was the last night I drank wine."

Her lifted brow told Thranduil she hadn't been aware of _that_, but she snuggled back into his hold contentedly. Thranduil took a few silent minutes to piece things together.

"What do you plan to do now?"

"Well, have the official ceremony sometime, but there's no real hurry, as it is just ceremony," Legolas murmured.

"And you're both going to remain in the Service?"

They both hesitated, pulling just enough apart to look at each other. "For now," Silrinil answered eventually. "But I certainly won't be going on patrols when with child, nor after the child is born. My own life is one thing, but to leave a young child without a mother is not something I'm prepared to do."

Legolas's eyes were dark as he thought things through. "When we take that step, I will step down as well, Ada. I will not worry her, will not upset our child."

Thranduil lifted a brow. He should really listen to Jarthey more often. "Perhaps you would take over for me as commander of the troops?"

Legolas relaxed slightly, nodding. "Of course," he murmured, but the pleased tone told the story.

Thranduil smiled slightly and shook his head. "I've forgotten whatever it was I was so desperate to talk to you about. It was quite annoying, being unable to find you."

"Now you know where to find me."

"Yes… Does Elleri know?"

"Yes. And Verine. I don't know about Morsallien."

"And your patrol? The other Captains?"

"No for the patrol, though they know we're friends. The Captains…" Legolas shrugged. "I can't say."

"Jarthey knows," Silrinil murmured. "I think she always has."

Thranduil shook his head slightly. Perhaps he should encourage females to enter the service once in a while. Of course, so far, they'd married other soldiers and left to raise families…

Except Jarthey, but that only because her intended had been killed while on patrol.

"When will the engagement be announced?"

"When we're ready to deal with the Wood," Legolas murmured.

"Really, Uncle. We've been parted for so long… what's a few months to ourselves?"

With a snort, Thranduil shook his head. "All things considered, Silrinil, I think it best you not call me 'uncle' any more. Ada or Thranduil will do."

She smiled faintly.


	27. Let any ask

Hey guys. I have a new story I'm attempting to work on, but could use some help naming the elves. If you would be so kind as to send me names you've thought up (please no 'borrowing' from other authors) and what gender they are, you'll eventually see them, if you keep reading.

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_**Chapter 27 Let any ask**_

"Wel… welcome," Elleri recovered, smiling a bit awkwardly as he took in the beings behind the expected elves of Imladris. He looked questioningly at Glorfindel, who smiled slightly.

"It seems our messages were both incomplete. We came for your brother's wedding, they for that of Ashes. Perhaps you know where they might be found?"

"No might about it. If you are all in search of them…?"

"I don't know what they're after, but we'll be seeing Ashes, if she is still here."

"Why wouldn't she be here when she plans to marry?"

"Ashes hasn't stayed anywhere for long in more than my lifetime."

"Perhaps not," Elleri agreed quietly. "But she stayed here for over eleven hundred years before leaving, and hasn't yet left once returning, save in duty."

The dwarf snorted and glared. "Well? Where is she?"

Elleri managed to keep himself from returning the glare, just imagining what Rin would say to that, should she find out. He was, after all, a prince, and had made a big deal in times past about not being allowed to simply be an ordinary elf, as he had to be held to somewhat higher standards. Surely, she would argue, that would include civil treatment of guests?

He collected himself and decided not to bother trying to encourage them to stop in their rooms first—no doubt they were intended for the rooms Silrinil had been having cleaned out. "She is, most likely, in the training field, sparring with her Captain."

"Really?" Glorfindel mused, before inclining his head slightly and moving to head that way.

The others followed, Elleri watching the dwarves as warily as they watched him.

When they reached the field, they found themselves faced with several backs—the elves were, as ever, forming a ring of observers around the two fighters. Elleri spoke to a few of the near ones, and they allowed the circle to be opened, the dwarves crowding in a bit with many astonished looks and horrified murmurs from the elves who noticed them.

As for the fighters themselves, they were aware of nothing beyond each other. Darting in and out, blades high and then low, there was nothing between them that could be considered a wasted move, a failed effort. Light hair fanned out with the movements of one, a dark cape of longish hair moving to the movements of the other. Their weapons gleamed, sparking intensely as they met.

Some speculation rang out among the elves, guessing who would win this one, considering the number of weapons that they had already used, the times they could retrieve them… how they seemed to be in relation to previously observed fights.

"As if anyone could beat Ashes!" one of the dwarves bellowed.

Both fighters faltered at the gratingly loud voice that was obviously not elven.

Legolas's blade hadn't been countered as they had both expected, their moves already planned beyond it.

It ripped through her tunic, through her shirt.

"Oh, Eru!" Legolas exclaimed, dropping his weapons as he reached for her.

Her weapons had fallen from shock-numbed fingers as well, and she had lifted a hand up over the gap in the material.

"Love?" Legolas asked softly, trying to move her hand to see what had been done by their moment of distraction.

She removed her hand slowly, looking almost curiously at the blood upon it. She stopped Legolas's muttered swearing by lightly placing a finger on his lips, leaving a splash of color. "It's just a shallow cut," she murmured. "It was mostly the binding you felt it tear through."

He was far from agreeing with her. "It's not _just_ anything. Come on. Off to the healers."

"Legolas!"

"Now," he declared flatly, pinning her with an intense glare.

"When my guests have just arrived?" she asked, tilting her head at the new arrivals.

"They can be greeted properly when you're no longer bleeding," he muttered, unlacing his tunic. He wrapped it around her, moving her arms through the sleeves when she didn't, and closed it as best he could, glad it laced at the sides rather than the front. "Let's go."

She sighed, looked back at the dwarves and the elves from Imladris, and inclined her head slightly. With a few dwarven words she glanced around until she spotted Elleri. "Be sure they're shown to the rooms I've had prepared," she murmured, before allowing Legolas to drag her off. "Legolas!" she laughed once they were out of the mass of elves. "I'm—"

She was cut off by a sudden kiss as he pulled her to the side of the hall. He shuddered slightly, kissing her once more. "You're still bleeding," he murmured at last, drawing back enough to gently move the folds of material. He studied the wound objectively, and shook his head slightly. "I take back everything I've ever said or thought about you binding your chest for Service events."

She laughed softly and decided not to protest when he took her hand, leading her down the hall to her room. He unlocked it, gently pushed her inside, and locked it behind them. After discarding his sheaths and the one blade he still had on his person, he pushed her back to the bed, pulling her along until she was stretched out, arms over her head.

"Stay," he half-growled, kissing her quickly.

As if she would want to leave, she mused, watching him walk into the bathing room. She closed her eyes and waited.

Soon the layers of material were slowly eased away—his tunic, hers, her undershirt, then, finally, the saving layers of crimson dappled white which had so annoyed him previously when he had to unwrap rather than cut her out of them.

After a quick, distracting kiss to the small scar under her right breast, warm water slowly eased over the wound, cleaning it up until it could be objectively observed. "Not deep at all," he agreed at last.

"Oh. So I was right about something?"

He chuckled softly and kissed her before getting up. "Which one?"

"The black container," she murmured, looking down at her wound. "What are we going to do when my stores run out?"

"Either take a trip to get more, or start storing things from the healers," he replied, returning to apply the bit of paste he'd thinned out of the nearly solid stuff she had made.

"They're likely to start feeling we don't trust them," she murmured.

He smiled. "They'll understand when the story reaches them. They know how much better one heals when tended by their mate."

She opened her eyes again to smile at him, watching his long finger smooth over the wound. "It should be fine soon."

"Which is very good, because I can't imagine Ada being all that keen on dwarves staying here if we have to put the ceremony off."

With a quiet laugh she reached up, bringing him closer for a series of gentle kisses.

He was smiling softly as he rested his hand over her wound, wishing it better as quickly as possible. They rested there for a time, content now that her wound was dealt with and they were alone.

Eventually, they had to stir. Legolas lifted his head from the pillow first, his fingers running tenderly from her breast to her thigh and back up again, slowly rousing her from her slight doze. "We should go, love," he murmured.

"Before your father throws my guests in the dungeon again?" she suggested.

Legolas chuckled. "A simple misunderstanding," he murmured, his grin knowing it hadn't been. "Estel got over it."

"I don't think Thranduil has, though."

"He's not rethinking you, you know," he told her softly, watching her with some concern.

"No. Because he was never very sure of us to begin with."

"Well, from his standpoint it is a bit odd."

"A _bit,_ but not very much. Only those who didn't know us at the time have been crude enough to suggest anything wrong happened."

"And the others may still think it."

"Does it so much matter, Legolas? The fact that we were bound negates all other arguments—we were meant to be together, were intended as mates. Nothing else, no other objection, can stand up against that."

"Perhaps not. But he has to hear it from any bold enough to speak."

She shrugged. "Enough. Let them deal with it. If any will listen, let them hear the truth. We don't deny it—let any ask."

He smiled at her, shaking his head before getting up. "You would make an interesting advisor, love."

"I thought I already was," she mused.

He looked back at her and smiled faintly as he walked to the wardrobe, removing a new set of shirts for them both. "Perhaps," he agreed, looking curiously at his empty sword sheath. "I hope Elleri gathered our blades."

"He set them outside the door a while ago," she answered softly, slowly fastening her shirt.

Legolas waited until certain she didn't need his help before retrieving the weapons. He looked back at her. "Well, advisor of mine, what weapons should be worn?"

"They knew me wary, but you are to be my husband and are also the crowned prince. No more than two."

"And you?"

She glanced at the sword over the door. "I thought I might wear my father's sword. I carried it for so long, and their craftsmen loved to study it, though they were never able to reproduce its like."

"I've never seen you wear it."

"I couldn't, at first—it was a giveaway. Then… _why_? I had another sword so it wouldn't be damaged nor even used save in direst need. It seemed right to put it back where it had been for so long."

He shrugged slightly and pulled her to her feet. They unthinkingly checked each other, then left her room, finding the elves from Imladris waiting in the hall not far away, debating what to do.

"Ah, Legolas! Ashes," Elladan inclined his head slightly.

"Will you give us your true name, now?" Elrond asked.

She smiled, inclining her head slightly. "Silrinil."

"Lady Silrinil," Glorfindel corrected softly.

She shrugged slightly, her fingers resting on the sword at her side.

Elrond's eyes suddenly widened, having followed the motion. "Where did you get that blade?"

"I inherited it," she sighed. "It was my father's from the moment it was cooled from being crafted."

"It appears to be from Gondolin," Elrond murmured, frowning.

"It is," she and Glorfindel replied simultaneously.

"Noldor?" Legolas asked at last in the silence that had befallen them.

"Surely you guessed?" she asked, tilting her head.

He shook his head slightly. "I knew your parents were not from the wood, but even Ada—" He stilled, and suddenly smirked. "Even Ada never knew where they were from."

"Because they came from the wilds," she replied faintly. "They wandered for many years after the fall of Gondolin. When I was born they thought it best to find a place among other elves to rest, for a time, before heading west."

"And they chose Mirkwood because the elves are a bit more wild?" Legolas asked dryly.

She shrugged. "Most likely, but I hardly remember."

With a nod he accepted that. "Then none can claim your blood isn't good enough for a crowned prince," he murmured with a slight smile.

"Has it been a consideration?"

"By some," he admitted, shaking his head. "They worry because you were a wanderer."

"And the first of the Noldor to reach these shores weren't?" she snorted.

A small smile turned his lips as he reached out to release the tie at her nape. "Well. We should see to your guests."

"As we've been agreeing," she murmured, lifting a brow at him. She led him—and the others—to the rooms prepared for the dwarves. She switched to dwarven almost at once, leaving the elves for the most part utterly clueless. Legolas could catch a little bit, but only a word here or there—his lessons had been too long ago, this speech far too rapid.

Suddenly, with a small motion from her, he was under scrutiny. "Love?" he asked softly, rather uncomfortable.

"I've explained who you are."

"Entirely, I take it?"

"They knew most of the story, anyway."

He snorted. It _would_ be safe to tell a dwarf. Hardly likely it would ever get back to any elf, much less him. "Shall I be guarding my lower limbs?"

She shrugged, earning a glare that set the dwarves to chuckling.

One of them nodded at him, popped a pipe into his mouth, and then turned the dark eyes back up to Silrinil. "You've our approval with this one," he inclined his head slightly towards Legolas.

"Well, good. As by a quirk of our creation, we are already wed."

The dwarf snorted and turned about, heading into one of the rooms again with a grunt.

Silrinil smiled faintly when all the dwarves had similarly retreated. "They've no great love for elves. They shall likely spend most of their time within their rooms, as I've promised they can ask meals sent to them."

Legolas lifted a brow. "Ada may thank you for that."

She laughed. "He certainly hasn't thanked me for Estel."

"Estel is here?" Elrohir perked up. "Where?"

"Last I saw of him he was deep in conversation with Verine," Legolas mused. "Elrond?"

Elrond blinked in shock at the sudden address. "Yes?"

"Have you decided?"

After a moment, the Imladris lord understood. "Why me?"

Legolas grimaced slightly. "It is a bit awkward being married by my father, you must admit."

"I rather think it would be an honor to be allowed to perform the ceremony for a child of mine," Elrond countered quietly. "I am, frankly, loathe to deny Thranduil this chance."

"He has three other children," Legolas murmured.

"But only one is to be his heir."

Silrinil snorted. "Elrond, you have felt the forces stirring—evil grows, spreads. It will not slumber peacefully ever again. The confrontation is coming. It will destroy any who stand idly by. The time of the elves on these shores is ending. All will go west and be forgotten, or remain here and be destroyed. There will be no succession in Mirkwood." She tilted her head back, gazing straight into his eyes. "Which well you know, ring-bearer."

Elrond's shock was so obvious his sons grew concerned. "You have seen much that is hidden to the eyes of the wise, Lady Silrinil."

"Wandering is the past of all the great," she murmured. "For only through such discovery can knowledge beyond that of stationary books be learned."

"You have indeed taken your father's place," Glorfindel murmured.

She smiled faintly. "It matters little. The only thing of interest at the moment is whether or not Elrond will perform the ceremony."

"I still hesitate," Elrond said after a pause.

"For Thranduil? He is there as Legolas's father, and that shall be enough. For the wood—does it matter?"

Elrond lifted a brow. "If she is like her father, it is no wonder the lines of communication out of the wood broke down."

Silrinil frowned faintly, but there was uncertainty in her eyes. Legolas shook his head. "He urged them kept open, Lord Elrond. They shut down only after his death."

Dark grey eyes lifted for a moment, catching on him for a moment before she relaxed faintly. "So? What say you, Elrond?"

After a long moment, he nodded. "Very well. It is, of course, an honor… which I still worry I will not sufficiently be able to fulfill."

"It is merely a matter of ceremony, which you know," she replied quietly. "Though I thank you for not revealing that to Thranduil."

"The time was not yet right," he murmured faintly, staring at her.

She half-smiled and nodded, before turning to look at Glorfindel. "My lord, I wonder if I might ask something of you?"

"Of course you may," he mused, frowning faintly.

She hesitated for a moment. "I have no one to stand as family for me, as those closest to being such are Legolas's kin. You are the closest to blood I have on these shores."

Glorfindel inclined his head slightly. "That is true, my lady."

She lifted a brow and sighed, a faint quirk to her lips as she stared at him. "Very well. I'll ask. Would you stand for me tomorrow?"

He smiled, inclining his head once more. "It seems most fitting… as I stood for your mother long ago."

She rolled her eyes. "When everyone seems to think me so like my father?"

"He was the one people noticed, my lady, but you have her stubborn patience, which is something—even among the elves."

She quirked a brow, clearly not believing him, but smiled faintly before leaving them to heed the nervous servant who had been shifting from foot to foot. "Yes?"

"The King would like to see you, my lady," he murmured, bowing his head deeply.

Silrinil sighed and nodded slightly. "Very well. Where is he?"

"His study, my lady." He bowed again before bowing even more deeply to Legolas, looked at the strange lords in near horror before bowing quickly one last time and fleeing.

She glared after him.

Legolas chuckled, shaking his head. "Get used to it."

She snorted and started walking quickly down the hall.

Legolas grinned fondly, almost seeing her absent cape snapping and flaring behind her.


	28. So it begins

Final chapter! Can you believe it?

* * *

_**Chapter 28 So it begins**_

Legolas laughed at the look of disgust on his father's face as another dwarven drinking song burst out in the great hall, floating down the corridor to embrace them. "It's your own fault, you know," he murmured.

Thranduil lifted a brow.

Legolas shrugged. "When she was so annoyed you insisted on inviting not only all of this wood, but much of Imladris as well?" he clarified. "You told her she could invite anyone she wished to have present."

"And how was I to know that would mean humans and dwarves?"

"A human, Father. Only one. And one destined for acts of greatness, I've no doubt."

Thranduil shook his head uncertainly. "Anyway. All but the dwarves are preparing to leave in the entrance hall, if you would fetch your wife to join us?"

With a quick inclination of his head, Legolas retraced his steps to the room he now shared with Silrinil. It had been a matter of some debate between them, which room would be used. Neither really wanted to use Legolas's room, as they didn't wish to have Elleri walking in at any time. Really, that was more Legolas's argument against it.

She didn't want to abandon her room, because of the painting of Gondolin Glorfindel had constructed upon the wall.

He would have agreed, but her room was much smaller than his own, and while the coziness _was_ nice, he was not going to have servants walking in on them all the time. They needed their bedroom room connected to a sitting room and a bathing room. Perhaps connected, as well, to an empty room… should children arrive while on these shores.

So after some discussion with a somewhat reticent Thranduil, they had taken the rooms on the other side of Elleri's—one large bedroom connecting to a bathing and dressing room, which had two smaller unoccupied rooms off of it as well, and a sitting room where servants or family could wait to be met. One wall of their bedroom was quickly painted as her room had been. Another wall looked like the valleys of Imladris, and the other two were places she had seen which he had not. The colors were a combination of their houses, and mixed together quite nicely.

Legolas entered and found her sitting on one leg, the other drawn to her chest in the chair beside the bookcase.

She glanced up at him curiously.

He smiled, bending slightly to fasten the shirt she was wearing. Since it was his, it was a bit snug over her chest, loose at the shoulders, long in the sleeves. He slipped the book from her fingers as he kissed her, drew her to her feet, handed her the rest of her clothing, and then gently pulled her from the room.

She made a small murmur of understanding when they reached the entrance hall, and was soon engulfed in a hug by Estel, then a slightly less over-enthusiastic one from Glorfindel. The twins and Elrond simply bowed their heads to her. She returned the gesture just as Thranduil came upon them, disapproval written upon his features.

"Ada?" Legolas asked sharply.

"Out of your rooms without these!" he scolded, handing Legolas his circlet. He reached up and gently placed the altered one upon Silrinil's brow. From a simply graceful line it had been made more intricate, a few small leaves curling delicately in radiant splendor. Thranduil smiled faintly, inclining his head to her.

She returned the gesture and the smile, her hold tightening on Legolas's hand.

Just before the elves and Estel would have been off, a mighty clatter of hooves sped towards them.

Knowing Elleri was the only one beside those present who would dare do such a thing, Legolas already had Silrinil slightly behind him and his sword drawn before the horse could appear.

She snorted scornfully at his move, poking his shoulder with a finger. He spared her only the quickest glance, his eyes hard and wary.

The horse clattered into the room, and a wild-looking old man climbed down. "Strider!" he cried, eyes latching onto Estel.

"Gandalf?" Silrinil asked just as Legolas and Elladan asked "Mithrandir?"

The couple glanced at each other, amused as Legolas sheathed his sword.

"What are you doing here, Gandalf?"

The old wizard blinked, looking down at her. It took him a moment to place her. With her dark hair waving absently, wearing a light blue tunic, without a cape and _with_ a circlet, she looked quite a bit different from the Ashes that had arrived there just a few short years before. "Ashes?" he asked softly.

"Yes. What brings you here?"

Gandalf looked her over once more. "Finally went home, I see."

She ears flushed slightly as Legolas drew her back into his arms.

With a shake of his head Gandalf turned to look at Strider once more. "Your assistance is needed," the wizard said.

The man nodded, inclined his head to those present, and strode quickly from the room to the gates, where his horse was already prepared for his departure.

The Imladris elves left soon after, with a few worried and concerned looks after the departing wizard and human.

Silrinil stared thoughtfully through the walls. "So it begins," she murmured quietly, before smiling up at her husband.

He frowned at her, seeing something stir within her eyes. "Linir?"

Her smile was a true one at his concern, and she lifted a hand to his cheek. "Worry not, Legolas. I have but one journey left to take, and it shall wait for you."

After studying her eyes for a little while, he nodded slightly, drawing her closer for a kiss.


End file.
